The Pedestrian Poem by M.J. Lemon

There perhaps is a time for
the pedestrian plodding of prose
the great bard once observed
when the mission to be
or not to be served reflects
on the epic defects of life

from unfairness to the travail
succored by worry, disease, company
all or some and maybe one
eating away at the flesh fortifying
the spirit only to have it vanish
into the nothing from whence today
where it came

commanding the words to come
to attention to recognize their mission
and to salute their fate
beats down, oppresses some more
than any thought or effort to lift
a giant steel beam to the rooftop

As we manage
(barely)
I am sick
I am bored
I am depressed
I find you dull
mustering up
little else
yet

There once was
a time now fading
into myth and receding
from our collective
vision
when

a hero saw greed in his need
at last recognized there was
poison in his passion and

Spoke in thought to the world of his failure
While we talk to ourselves, no one greater