On the verge
and the urge
behind the wheel of stimulation
miracles, in life, unachieved
have spoken finally
first, the last of the songs
the songs of certainty
the songs of death –
then the hymns of doubt
as life trembled in the hands of love
anxiously waiting to fly
but the birds of truth
had no voice
nor their wings could take flight
that was the still that was imagined
a painting with all those words
and then
sounds of domestic hunger
were heard outside the doors
mouths, dirty and foul, roared and gagged
whilst on the mountain tops of country sides
nature, so beautiful from the distant
smiled with its brutality
they had a good laugh
at the beautiful illusions
humans so faithfully adored

On the verge
and the urge
unsupported evidence
showed –
how easy it was to die in a million ways
and how one man’s death is a tragedy
and a million a statistic
but the ruckus of criticism
damned this forever
and truth came like a vanguard
forward to end this
for truth is not ugly
not horrible
and dreadful
but kind and sincere
if you know
how to handle it