Instead of Heaven

by Ilan

The loneliness of 
a birdcall from a birdcage 
over the top of my head,
Neanderthal I feel,
White picket fences not 
Tears wetting a bit
Breath panting a little more 
Where are all the good poets 
Screaming from rooftops 
Where are you? 
Until I fall 
Instead of heaven,  
Hell

Surrounded by poppy leaves 
Embracing heaven 
Except once again
 it's Hell

He'll know my call
From one Neanderthal to another 
Across the lonely suburban picket fences 
The perfect windy driveways 
I wonder if he gets lonely too
Walking down these slippery slopes
 

It's 4am and very quiet
The only thing between my good self and God, 
The damn tinnitus   
Surrounded by Dorothy Porters' Love Poems, 
The crumpled doona of single
And the longing for you.  

6am, still waiting 

Copyright Ilan Cohen 2010

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i really like what this says about the poets. i think they are absolutely everywhere, absolutely atomised. 

 

its a shame. because poetry for the most part is unable to provide any financial stability and is completely undervalued (like most art, it is not a profit making enterprise) people go and write as individuals stuck away after work or on the weekends or whatever. id love to have more opportunity to share writings and meet poets!

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