• Rate this poetry
User Review
5 (4 votes)

Death at Conception

written by: huntersjames



Chained to the fence poor mutt
Your life’s trail a patterned well-worn rut
This morning’s sweet breeze beckon you could not feel
Encircled as you are by his cold collar of steel.

Our strangled thoughts choke our mind
Our ideas die before we can find
Creativity paces imprisoned by fearful scorn
Dreams of future lay cold stillborn.

Wild untamed free imagination scares our civility
The mob defends against with jackets strait and alchemy
This death began in the instant of our conception
Black sackcloth was set aside the day of our invention.

We accepted our reward for conforming compromise
Cheerfully gnawed their biscuits, hiding tears and muffled cries.




done a lot of things,
some more worthwhile than others,
now I'm doin this

Latest posts by huntersjames (see all)

Read previous post:
Much More Than Rain Man, poetry by Alex Andy Phuong at Spillwords.com
Much More Than Rain Man

Much More Than Rain Man written by: Alex Andy Phuong   Rain Man won “Best Picture” Dustin Hoffman shed light...