Though the fall of a resentful bliss
The cascades of temptation weeps
Fighting the truth that speaks not
Disarming the blunted bars that rise
The chaos of today began yesterday

Goodness is a virtue of discipline
Blah blah blah, says the preacher
I say, virtue is an arm of goodness
The more the good, the more the virtue
The circle is brief, yet it tells the tale

The hunch of respect is always pride
New calamities press on as it grows
The line between them is the fugitive
Nothing sparks bloody than their war
If you doubt it, bite the proud man

Beauty stinks when it’s rotten
The professional harlot even smokes on it
But you sit at home and paint vanity in walls
Letting your grounds clay up in vain pursuits
Nothing grows on that dry land, they die…

Wisdom lied, it made us mad men of time
Creating the fury of a blinded strength
The fierce beat of thought always mocks us
We think, but we do not birth the news
Tell me, how then are we wise?

Copyright© Ruth Brodrick.

<a href="http://Fifteen Credits“>

Author: I- read

This is a free blog aimed at watering poetic minds and quenching the thirst of readers. My passion for words commemorates the desires to speak the truth, interplay with emotions and voice the fights in troubled souls. Welcome to i-read..

2 thoughts on “RANTS OF FUSED WORDS”

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