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Aftermath by A.D. Labuschagne

A.D. Labuschagne | Feb 2nd, 2019 | poetry | No Comments

Poem

If I had known then,
Back before this cycle was set to spin,
Then even though I say “I’d do it all again”
I would probably think twice
Before I turned that twisted, blown globe
That turns men into mice
Before I started spinning my hemp into rope
“Hey, but that rope was nice…”
Before I set in motion the wheel
That would grind to a halt
with my bones mashed inside

Revelation, an apocalypse of the mind
The curtains drawn, the stage is open wide
A divine comedy written in blood
Plays out before my very eyes
As life flashes, like epileptic fits,
In bits and pieces in my mind…
It seems so alien, so foreign
It’s all Greek to me…
Like my life was penned by Sophocles…
My life is a tragedy…

Or is it?

As the dust settles around the ruins of
My once great and glorious kingdom
I find that the aftermath is deceiving
For amongst the chaos I’ve left in my self-destructive wake
Amidst the towers of carcasses and heaps of dead
A flower grows…
Red as blood, and bright as day…
There is hope, even in the cloud that chokes
Light in the darkness, as it reflects off particles
of silt and sand…
Where palaces and temples once made their stand…

No one knows the aftermath
But that’s okay
For no matter what hand life has dealt
I know it can all be rebuilt…
Just make sure you do it right this time around…
Build streets of gold, not streets of bone…
Make sure you do it right, my friend…

Addiction is not the end.

And we are not alone.

Poet Bio

Andre is a poet from Johannesburg, South Africa, where he lives with his wife and two dogs. His work is a collage of experiences in search of meaning.

He is also a member of Hart and Hind music collective and an avid reader.

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