By AV Haar
Disease freshly attained the spiked blades; her grip has sickened.
Shears curtailed growth; dawdled brown dawdles, and will do so for decades. The country has failed below the globe, and labor has shifted to the few.
No public gatherers shall accommodate the networks of any man in most fashions. We motor past numbered skeletal establishments with no transactional silver, nickel, or coppers. The greenbacks have ceased the lucrative in whichever course, excluding the individual who feels fantastic from the millions of pauses for adorning oneself. Anyone’s guess to insanity’s longevity steadfastly gripping a populous, so feel free to shriek into the atmosphere. Trudge to the door once the mail arrives for the singular connection. Wandering hygienic bank robbers consistently circumvent exempted distance while habitually exercising new canines as an escapist vacation of the home.
Americans seem to prizefight political lawns of the brownest green only to sense particular selfish sunshine. The brightest o’ idiots spewing spittle in all directions the wind securely propels it. Why does the ignorance of a few mark the answer with a blade? The grass is sharp on your tongue, barbed as it browns and hardens. Chew it and spit into the grassland, or swallow it and regurgitate it for a few who will never contemplate the reality of any situation due to selective seeds planted decades prior.
Such grass has caught fire spreading like a virus to the pasture, through the paddock, and o’er your lawn. Your home is about to burn to the ground; you cannot stop it, and neither shall any fire brigade. Our brownest grass is afire, and fire it will flow ’til ashes are only ashes.
Temporarily, I versify song without music and then another as I patiently anticipate the uprising phoenix. To watch plumed down sprout, emerge, and ascend into a magnificent creature of blessing is a desire I yearn to witness. Meanwhile, I pour buckets of bright and sparkling upon the unclean brown until lilacs again rise from the grasses.
AV Haar: This poem above will eventually be included in my second book of published poems titled Words Which Stay, the loose poems of AV Haar.
My first book, Words Which Stay, the journaled poems of AV Haar is currently available on Apple Books.
I wrote Brown of Green Grass as a release of the mindset that one feels with this dreaded disease and how the future must remain positive.
I think we are all feeling a bit grim and depressed hoping for finality of this wretched timeline. This is simply my way of expressing it.