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Dew On The Lilacs



Surrogate reality,
divorced from what’s real

The news on your cable,
and movies conceal

The brands that you purchase,
the labels you wear

Convince you of something,
the ‘Emperor’ shares

While consciously vacant,
unconsciously lost

The dew on the lilacs,
impermanent frost

Like quicksand it’s calling,
disguised as a beach

Your essence is falling,
and far out of reach

As peacocks left strutting,
unable to fly

Your time ever wasted
—and waving goodbye

(Bryn Mawr College: February, 2021)
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Submitted by sage48 on February 05, 2021

23 sec read
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Kurt Philip Behm

Longtime writer with twelve books in publication. Three of them Poetry. : The Death Of The Playground : The Sword Of Ichiban : Searching For Crazy Horse : Darkening Sun : An Anthology Of Perception-Vol's 1 & 2 : After Midnight : Sammy And Bumpers : The Fall City Mandate : Revenge Along The War Trail : Death from The Sky more…

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