The Crowd

Alex Maxwell Poem Kubili

I see the undressed crowd
their paradigm confusion
unable to grasp knotted souls
and I recognise within them
my solitude, my dreams
past and the folded future
blind to it stalking me
it’s hunger is drunk
staggering around, staring
out from cracked mirrors
and ghosting in cheap
tobacco cloud haze.

There are times when it is near,
nearer enough to smell
the cut price odour perfume
and I wonder if it is really me.

Am I the one it is waiting on

Am I the chosen one, the one
who was born by an askance
frown, or maybe it was a lame
limp smile that flew with broken
wings and I see the crowd
saying what they need to say
to be part of the crowd
and I am happy
with my awkward
future, as I never
know what next brings
or where, they will bury
this flesh vessel
which has together
lived this life.

Alex Maxwell
© ® 2018

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