BROKEN PLACE OF HISTORY

Kant in Konisburg cascades,
a wandering Heidegger parades,
their thoughts to which set clocks, raid,
war's a game the grown child's played,
the following our renegade,
impulse past the thought of thought,
armchair science topic hot,
issues fraught sold and bought,
a broken pace of history.
To songs to charm chimed churning,
in beats to bring a burning,
of the theocratic urge,
to speak of thought and dint of dirge,
that glints in eyes whispering words,
of which the few can speak.
And in the chirping of their night
the cricket speaks and sets wrong's rights,
wronged by the wanting worded wrought,
in thinking high and haughty thought,
that thinkers in the thick of thieves,
drawn from the spoils of war,
fall foliage from thickened leaves
a broken place in history.
From harvest of the inkling now,
in the autumn of an august moon,
taken due from nearness soon,
in the surfeit that they swoon,
from feasts of fierce and fearless fear,
a broken place in history.
Drawn from the nearness near and dear,
to hearts appended to the cause,
and finding worth set here in stone,
take time to preach and pause,
for dreams like ours they may condone,
a broken pace in history.
Revolution is to chance, a stance,
beyond the ken of circumstance,
and in the riddled depths they dance,
to futile aims who fail the steps.
We take in aim to know ourselves,
to see upon which step it delves,
the deepest sheol of dreams,
where nothing's as it seems,
a broken place in history.
And we in waking,
for the taking,
talk endlessly of the hope,
that made in us seeming,
dare in the dreaming,
find a way to cope,
with a walking dead
who dream instead,
of a broken place in history.
To bridge the thought of greats,
and make of spoken word,
of our best mates,
things thought and heard,
drawing salience from the absurd,
stand charmed not harmed or alarmed,
A broken pace of history,
for the broken place of history.

BOREALIS
Hazel skies echoing quasiometric aperture,
receiving the gleaning neon light affirmed.

Words Poems and image © 2016 by Peter Kaleb Theodoropoulos aka Rockwell Wilder