Writers Of The Rio Grande Classic Originally Published Aug 6, 2011
Are we falling apart, dropping piece by piece?
Within such minuscule awareness, small notice is taken
Of all that is no longer here?
Are the cracks of the heart spreading through the spleen?
While the windows to the soul, the eyes, grow more dim
Senses fail, there’s a numbing increase, and now
No sensations course the way
Where once living nerves had run
Will no one say a thing about
This nothing road that wends
Where? Even a dead end would be something.
No one says a thing, nothing is too kind a word
For this horror that presents itself, while denying itself and even it’s
Fastened as we are and so entranced
To a fools belief…
A belief that out there somewhere
Upon their crowded throne
Someone cares; is watching over you and me…
So pay no mind to your mind
To the heart within the deepest self
The question is this:
Are they watching over you with care?
Or in a cold calculation
Counting every falling piece
By Edgar Clinton Jr
Nov. 16. 2011
Born in Houston, Texas and moved to Raymondvile, Texas in 1969. Family bought a radio station and helped with the family business until it was sold in 1997. Since then started an agency and mostly writes about experiences in Deep South Texas. Writers of the Rio Grande founder, editor and contributing author.