“They Who Do Not Know”

Wow. Yeah. This poem was kind of out of the blue — it was the Fourth of July, and after Katrina was asleep I couldn’t seem to go to sleep, so I got up and jotted this down really fast. I perfected it a little bit once I woke up. 🙂 What do you think? Should I trash it?

The starworks burst
and their colors fly,
rushing fast to their finale,
and seen to be a beauty by the eyes
that watch them die.

As she splits the evening crowd,
visions set to the sky,
she has to only lift her arms high,
to the beauty
confident and sound:

‘Just before the ideas of July,’
she declares,
her tone as icy blue
as the satin gown she wears,
‘you will all have your wishes,
your fourth of July dishes,
and (why)
you doth cry?
you haven’t a blue.’

The celebration of a distant independence
has the subtitute of mistake,
drinking,
and repentance.

And as each starwork bursts
and each color doth fly,
the sins of your present,
and the knowledge of your past,
cancel out,
leaving us all insignificant playthings
at the ends of which strings she holds.

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