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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Echo House

Welcome to Echo House
The walls are voices
Screams of injustice
Cries of despair
Lost souls comprise
the halls
Come in
Have a bowl of empty
We choke on it every day
We have so much nothing
we are drowning in it
There is always room for more
Stay a while
Bring your shame
your disappointment
your hopelessness
We will nurture them
Leave your dignity
at the door
Should you keep it with you
be warned
The cat will hunt it down
and play with it like a mouse
until she grows bored
and kills it.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

5 comments:

Marian said...

Yikes, maybe I'll keep my dignity intact and just stay right here. Interesting, and true, that such behavior seems to be just idle sport for those who play like that. Argh.

Fireblossom said...

I think the cat has been running wild in the world lately!

Kerry O'Connor said...

Have a bowl of empty..

That is a smart line in a thought-provoking poem.

hedgewitch said...

I'm seeing so many sorts of institutions here, but of course, it may merely be society itself you are treating to a scathing denunciation, all worded delicately and specifically on target. It made me think of the last job I quit, too. Good stuff, LM.

Björn Rudberg said...

I have a feeling that this is not a very comforting house... hmm I hope I never have to visit, though I guess it's a little bit like Hotel California... you can check in anytime you want but you can never leave.