The Few Who Steal The Fire...

Poem By Brad Evans

they will flee to paris
they will flee to india
they will hide in a cardboard shack
they will go anywhere
just to be left alone
where they will not be shot or beaten or turned insane by their own kind

these are the few
who have stolen the fire.

living on the fringe
striking daily some spark from a flake of flint
some juice of thought

these are the few...

miller scrabbling for crumbs in a dustbin
celine walking down the street with dogs for protection,
pound thrown into a cage

their kind
encounter a hatred and jealousy unmatched
by those who have tried and failed -
those terrified of an empty belly
those who bury themselves into terrible jobs,
into soul-destroying acts of conformity.

and the few who have stolen the fire

do so willingly
do so without protection

and do so
at a price

you would not


Comments about The Few Who Steal The Fire...

juice of thoughts- stolen fire, good one

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Other poems of EVANS

The Old Man

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All Of These, And More

as the nights of passion are
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as the street bears the weight

Us Lazy Slobs

on that day
the private company took about 7 of us,
sat us down in a conference room

A Midwinter Riddle Poem

In midwinter you will find me
Appearing better than my companion.
From a distance, at first glance,
One may mistake me for the head of Medusa!

Look At That Frog!

I don't know about you
but one of the best recollections
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phil walks into the bookshop,
picks up a mag from a shelf.

I tell a work colleague near me: