November 2015 Paris Attacks

philip-mondson

Flower with Rock by Philip Edmondson

“Truth is Everywhere” by Gary Lindorff

We poets take no responsibility

For the forms of civilization;

There are architects

To create the shells we leave behind.

It is our nose for truth

That makes us poets,

A requirement of human evolution

That civilization exploits,

Or straight out denies.

Truth does not build on truth.

Each generation may rightly lay claim to it !

It has to be experienced.

And truth is self-sufficient.

A good life can be built

Around some very simple truths.

Being pushed by the wind,

I once found myself caught up

In a storm of milkweed parachutes,

And truth was everywhere…

Architects are illusionists,

And we’re running out of toothpicks and tinsel !

Soon there will be cities built out of smoke

And reflections,

But before that happens

There may came a day

When we sit down to a dinner

Of artificial memories,

Choosing from a menu

Of long forgotten tastes.

I remember a cover

Of a science fiction thriller in the 50s,

Depicting an alien landscape:

In the foreground, a canyon

With the rusty hull

Of a spaceship leaning

Silhouetted on a rise,

And behind that, looming

Mirage-like in the distance,

Great mountainous hives of a super city,

Which, due to its remoteness I guess,

Enhances the incorruptible romance

Of an alien dusk.

There is our future, if we’re not careful !

Form, gargantuan, cosmic,

Posing as the last, unbuildable city.

But it’s always been there !

Like a screensaver on the inner eye

Of a species that never felt at home,

Showing us what we will look like

When simple truths are gone.

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