86. Subdued (Myshkin, 2020) · quatrains

Waking alone At the hour when we are trembling with tenderness Lips that would kiss Form prayers to broken stone. -T.S. Eliot I wake alone, but full of who I am, Of cheese, and dirt and shrapnel of the soul I’m waiting for tomorrow’s music jam To nurture beauty prison schooling stole. This compromise of factory and heart. Is not that bad, I hear the Capos claim. You give away your freedom, wildness, art And get security of job and shame. Who knows what king or queen you might have been? The logic of report cards breaks your spine Your spirit gets subdued by the machine And programmed thoughts convince you all is fine. Stop eating asphalt. Let the rat race go. The wilder things will teach you how to flow.