It's not so quiet in simmering disagreements.
But we don't hear the birds chirp and sing, we don't hear the strong voice of the barging truck along the same requirement, the same trail for tires. They only need a miserly abandonment of wear; really only a trifle of life - life on any street. But to be dissed, and dissed well. That is certainly a trial, or triumph of the spirit or the will of cowardice. And it's not just there - it's everywhere that we, that you see this. No soft landing here, disagreeing is an Alaska mist - dangerous this, unseen logs rolling in a shivering stream, waiting for human tumblers underground, for permanent company from fools. Or those who are lost, sleepless with the latest act of cruelty or insolence. It's the best methodology for arguments, where before we just simmered below the surface before exploding. It was not cool - such destruction of hearts, souls. And they still burn, they simmer, as I said to you. You never minded it though, since it was below the level of scuttlebutt, which means it was not worth noticing. © 2013 Larry Ingram
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture. Categories
All
Archives
December 2018
|