Fred Aiken Writing

Category: Poetry

eyes go blind trying to read
truth between the lines,
as the house of wisdom sits upon its pedestal,
and flicks and flings all sorts of recriminations
at the depravity it has caused,
at the life that’s been ignored

March 5, 2024

what. sometimes. pretend. to. be.

i am the disembodied flame
written into the fields burnt,
but young,

as fecund, vibrant
organisms abound and surround
my decaying flesh

for all to see and understand
the passing of the torch,
the whispering of a dream

March 4, 2024

not very funny

i once wrote a joke,
but i didn’t understand the punchline
so i suppose it wasn’t really a joke,
at least not anymore