Mockery Is High Art Poem by Uriah Hamilton
Mockery Is High Art
The sky is stormy black,
Even scavenger birds
Are too disoriented to attack
On a day void of perceptible light.
My mind is crashing
Like a virus-infected computer
Impossible to reboot.
I’m not one to argue or dispute
What any woman would impute,
I take you solemnly at your word,
You never loved me.
The afternoons of tea,
The musicals and matinees,
The holding hands
During summer parades
Was all a charade.
And mockery is high art
That the naïve never learn to make,
But must always pay
The highest commission to receive.
I’m not one to argue or dispute, what any woman would impute, I take you solemnly at your word... this is immaculate... thanks for this one. salut.
Some people just don't recognize a game when it's being played....why are people so cruel? Very nice. sincerely, Mary
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long [...] Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her. Pablo Neruda
We all tend to be naive the first time, even the second....but we learn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 3:37:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Your whole metaphor of mockery being high art is very well made here. The last two lines show that you may still be naive. That isn't all bad, Uriah, for to be too jaded is never to leave yourself open to love. This is a good poem. Raynette