Saturday, July 10, 2010

Social Derelict Debasement Romanticized

Tumbleweeds roll free,
Loners going where they go,
Pictured as drifters,
Adrift in the wind’s blow,
Something exotically
Harmless, not bad.

They’re sung of in songs
And pictured in films
As wistful icons in stark independence,
Despising their roots,
Deserting their soil,
Pitifully sad.

But tumbleweeds tumble
Searching for moisture below,
Which they absorb prodigiously
While laying their spore.
Seemingly harmless passersby
With no beauty or depth
They ruin the wheat
And steal the soul of the seed.

Dead weeds have no place with the living.
They come without use and end in corruption.

Illustration: Source unknown

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