New Poems: Patrick Silverman and Will Burns

Red Roses
by Patrick Silverman

What a world we walk
a garden bound by beauty
Red flowers, purple flowers, green flowers
flowers bruised by each pace.
societies of color
sectioned equally
organized charmingly
Most flowers thrive,
while the minority die.
Followers fantasize and stroll through
the path furnished at their feet.
what a world we walk.

Numbers narrow minds.
Statistics assess success.
Votes brand ambition.
Ratios resemble equality.
Percentages appoint action.
Rules reflect reason.
Hours honor work.

Satisfaction supersedes smiles.
Objectivity limits subjectivity.
Pride sings our song.

Today, the naive sing for piece of mind,
for empty fulfillment,
for false achievement
Ruby red wine pours over stacks of bills, still
crimson spills
sewers fill.
A rose garden blossoms beneath the asphalt
But stay sipping
you deserve it.


Ode to Ignorance
By Will Burns

Eyes forced open by perpetual reality,
sting with sorrowful tears as
irrational justification traps the mind.
The veil that wonderfully distorted our sight
now lies on the face of the future,
burned and buried within the mind’s trench.
Bells drum deeply midnight as
curtains close on the masquerade ball,
and the crowd bows to the actors.

The masks of the orchestra,
removed to the tuning
of contemporary instruments,
as fashioned wood warps to brass.
Doors slate open,
turning silk coarse as
scorching air drowns
the beliefs of a thousand generations,
and the canary crows Death.

Intense illumination
pours over forgotten maxims,
devouring the comfort of the darkness.
Solid shadows dissipate into
wavering excuses,
and experience proves unknown.
Caught off balance, we fall
from prominent deference—


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