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Matt Holubowski
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Opprobrium
An orange balloon floats over the moon, and is held by an old,
white string. The schoolyards gaze at an old white rage,
while the rest of us hope it will burst.
The bigger it gets, the more I fill with regrets and with fear.
I am paralyzed.
Oh, why do we laugh at this ignorant
crass that reminds me so much of 1939?
The whole world dangles
From an old white string.
I look on eclipsed as
I can't change a goddamn thing.
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Opprobrium.
The monuments stand on the hallowed lands where the soil is forever
unchanged. Now sow as we might,
forever maniac, what grows here will also always be the same.
The whole world dangles
From an old white string.
I look on eclipsed as
I can't change a goddamn thing.
Opprobrium.
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