by The Cowl Editor on March 4, 2019
Poetry
by Sam Ward ’21
When the rain soaks the body and pain eclipses,
I’ll take this body to the ground if my soul permits,
leave it in a shallow grave like ice cold tips.
He who felt the weight of blossoming burdens
can take summertime love to cough on the sermon
or the feel alive buzz to soften the learning
But the kid who speaks about alternative dimensions,
must burn at the stake like the witches of Salem.
I fell in the middle with an undisclosed hologram
building castles for the wake
shapeshifting in place
for the pleasure of his better half
About as zealous as a zombie
foaming at the teeth
he hit the lifeless corner store seething
purchasing vitamins like a lost puppy teething
When she handed back the change he found that all he had left was a pocket full of damp depressants and dreary days of melancholy.
I needed to wake up.
I needed to back off.
I heard the marching order tune
but I felt there was nothing I could do.
I needed to wake up.
I needed to back off.
I heard the marching order tune
but there was nothing I could do.
Who’s to say that the angel who rescued me from my foolish ways
would love me all the same?
Isn’t this the primal fear?
To empty heart in foul pursuits
and lose a will for passions that
bear the essential fruits?