Trash Night

Trash Night

                                                                                     Oh My God ~ Philip Brent Harris


He wondered what might last down the years,
Which, if any, art, music, writing met the price?
Would stout bunkers, crumbling museums hear
The pain left in the ether, testament to sacrifice?

Would the blood-soaked ground yield answers,
Clicking geigers call random metronomic time?
Would one remain, tell our wasted chance here,
A faded Free sign, only ruins, no longer prime?

We’ll leave it all behind and no key in the door
Left ajar because we were too lazy to even care.
Whine of wailing, wee violins and nothing more,
Left blind because into the midday sun we stare.

We are not cold, as yet, but we have made a hash.
Sudden sun flash leaves none but shadow in ash.
If you think we’ll act judiciously or will act rash,
Could someone, please, come take out the trash?


Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment


Please, leave a comment and let me know what you think.

See more of my creative offerings and opinions at:

Brent Harris Fine Art

Philip Brent Digital Art

Vida Voices

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