the iceman cometh

The Iceman Cometh Poem

We all sat,
staring more to the left
than to the right
our heads slowly drooping
approaching the table
that’ll serve as a pillow
tonight… but then
someone gets up
amongst our snarls and grumble
stands on a chair
grandstand before him
and words somewhat
resembling these:
 

 

I’d clothed myself
in all these dirty rags of dreams
I needed them
to protect myself
from the bitterness outside
the hostile quake of accidents
and frostbitten emptiness
just like you
– all of you!
we’re drowning in our illusions
like a matchstick
burning itself
slowly becoming blur and flakes
until one day
truth unattainable
we disappear – like
a wisp of nothingness
in the incommensurability
of the eternal midnight.

 

Someone threw an empty bottle
at him
knocked him out dead
and we resumed our rest
alongside decadent dreams.

 

 

 contemporary poetry

2 thoughts on “the iceman cometh

  1. This has a very Kafka-esque spirit about it to me (the blind destructive masses and the one man standing is a nuisance to be shut down). Very simple, elegant, and heavy. I love the story-telling aspect of it too. :)

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