I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

For Camille

And instead of chapters, my brain issues poetry. I know Camille dislikes my political ranting. So this poem is for her. (Since I make many typos, I do intend the homophone in line three)

The Debate

Fire on the beach shines
a beacon to the frothy surf.
We dissent into chaos.
Subsumed in the sea
of past assumptions
to drown
breathing deep blue history.
We flounder on the sublime
and shout warning
at the young oarsmen
in brave boats,
"Excelsior!"
And one last time,
hand raised in final salute,
the waves break resolve
and claim us their own.

4 comments:

Rick said...

You're getting way deep, friend. Love it!

Steve Buchheit said...

Sometimes I feel over my head, Rick. :)

Anonymous said...

Heh. You can do all the political ranting you like! I just can't read all the ranting all my friends do online all the time.

I have very smart, opinionated friends. I like them that way. I just don't have much to say in response to their rants. Isn't that the nature of a rant? Rather one-sided?

Steve Buchheit said...

Yes, that is the nature of the rant.