A Poisoned Lance Pounced And Trounced

Surrender your burdens
To the feet of providence
When down and out in gardens
Sweeping seas of indigence

That swamp your every mood
For reasons unknown
Understood and misunderstood under the hood
Worn in low moods known

To trigger bouts of doubts
Brought about by the entry
In dens where malfeasance sprouts
In the spiritual territory

Invaded and broken into pieces
For the umpteenth time
In sorrow slices and hisses
That struggled to climb

Back to the stability and tenacity hitherto believed
To return to shape
Every time the underserved grieved
To raise hair on the nape

Of your red neck in the face of a serpent
Who offered you temporary relief
From aeons spent and misspent
Whose divinity became the thief

You chose to worship in a vain hope
To find succor and comfort
On the sliding slope
That tore your fort and cut avenues from which no further fake support

Could emanate
In real time
To debunk and detonate
The myth whose mime

Left you in tears
Clutching at a straw in the raging storms
That in your soul rejection and dejection injected burdens of fears
Ensconced and entombed in homes

Where you sought succor
But reaped rejection
As your world collapsed at the rancor
That in the end couldn't spare you the rage of a poisoned lance

Set to pounce
To put an end to your misery
With every virulent ounce that could no longer bounce
Like a yoyo as you succumbed victim the stealth of usury and penury.

by John Sensele

Other poems of SENSELE (1999)

Comments (6)

'To trigger bouts of doubts' The poem echoes with sounds that abound
brilliant writings Title of this poem A Poisoned Lance Pounced And Trounced has composed brilliantly
Such a fine poem, John...congrats for being chosen POD
John, such a well crafted poem... congrats for being chosen....10+++++
Yeah right- there is no succor just rejection and poverty world collapsed at the rancor great 10+++
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