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Sonnet For A Cynic


*Illustration reference: Comedian

George Carlin

(1937-2008)


I want to laugh, yet need to cry

I vacillate, I don’t know why

I ball my fists in act of rage

You argue for the wars you wage

Still moments of stark clarity

Occur, but they’re a rarity

You see the sense you nod agreement

Concede sometimes you know what we meant

Then back into the corner wailing

All logic and coherence failing

We’re hostage without hope of ransom

And you like child that’s spent from tantrum

Demanding all but giving none

Held to our head like loaded gun

The whims of others cloaked as due

Cold gruel for me, moist cake for you

I wake each day, my spirit steeled

My wits about, my eyes are peeled

We don’t know when the meanness comes

Nor what direction it spews from

Best to prepare for nothing’s worse

When fragile bubble of hope bursts

Is there much point to making plan

Or waste prized life to understand?

Tis why a cynic accepts their fate

And a poet’s hand might hesitate…

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