28 August 2012

Let It Rest

let it rest

Complain to whom (or is it ‘who’, you
might digress) to get its cast iron grip
beset with angst release its feral hold;
and where does one appeal for peace
from boldly broken promises

Its rash of nervous energy repressed
retreats beyond a point where sense
conspires in views of wrong disjointed
too obscurely to be set to rights – and
all for crudely wooed imbalances

Seeking succour from a Bank of vogue
intransigence will find you’re stranded
in a cell-like dream with less restraint
than walls of clay – although in bricks
displayed as bogus faith

Answers blink belatedly, a wraith-like
figurine who signals in a semaphore
too simply read; behold you’re author
of your subtle fate alone it says –
best let it rest in peace...
© 25 June 2012, I. D. Carswell