The Sadness of All Men

By: Rosalind Black

Wading through antiquated science

I find the sadness of all men.

All men, falling out of logic

Into hunted silver time, lying spears

And readiness becoming them.

Beyond Baroque and heel-toe resplendence

I find the sadness of all men.

All men, over sage and rite and rede

Into nude and bolder rime, faltered pride

And choler quick escaping them.

On minds and out of dress

I find the sadness of all men.

All men, in hollow force for once again

In capture of an air, laboured health

And goal as soon betraying them.

In infantile martial steps

I find the sadness of all men.

All men, in driving madness step on step

From civil conduct rare, lisping gash

And bludgeoned bruise creating them.

Broken sound conclusion makes

The sadness of all men. All men,

Who scurry in a constant left,

ring-bound on and slower run

Propelling them.