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Poetry
by Jeffrey Carl Jefferis
Mr.
Good Night
He didn't walk so much as he wandered
For to wonder, He had to wander
And to wonder was not to breathe
but it was, nonetheless, a distraction
from the realization of breath.
Physical movement only a necessity,
a nuisance, a means to an end
often lacking merit and too full of sanity.
Why not a World of Monkey Talk?
A minus of the minute genetic abnormality
that is human communication
Straight talk keeps silent
below the roar of hypotheticals,
falsehoods, and empty analogies
Not a world of Sound over Substance
But a world of Sound on top of
Sound over Substance.
The social equivalent of engaging in mass combat
amidst a dense sandstorm
but still having to rely on sight
for self-preservation.
Thus to wonder even is futile, but the last refuge
Of peacefulness, for at least then
He knows from whom the falsehoods come,
the true depth of the pretension,
and the illegitimate value of the metaphor.
The gold is on the balcony, the fools inside congregating.
Jeffrey Carl Jefferis is a
thirty-year-old Francophile who sacrificed his travels to act
as caretaker for his aging parents, Carl and Kathy. He uses the
dynamism of words to write poems and stories that keep his head
in the clouds, where it rightfully belongs.
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