Phil John Kneis



out of the woods we kept calling
and out of the woods we keep crawling
out of the woods we keep falling
not into place
but something different quite
in vanity
in vain it, I
fear it is
quite more than German angst it is
a staring into the abyss
of human intellect's worst fruits of cold deducing
cold seducing of the underworld
the underwood
beneath the shades
it's hiding beneath the shades of the trees of the forest of the thoughts
thought so long we lost it
lost it ain't
lost are we
lost in thoughts and lost in passions
patience gone
and all our serenity 's faded to darkness
fire's flying in its place
in its locus
locusts like we've infected the world
like we're about to do it to others
go west
go space
face the new monsters we'll see out there
emerging within our selves
we don't need an other to see our selves
we see our selves
our worst intentions
in the others
we attack what's of us
in the others around us
can't stand we ourselves
can't stand we
the insanity
the inanity
the unbearable gravity of being
the trees for the forest
the forest for the trees
how sweet look the woods
when you enter them
how impenetrable
once you need to leave
leaves fall under the summer sun
fallen leaves they soon will be
but winter leaves
once winter left
we'll be thrown back to the summer, the zenith, of all our discontents
and worries
in summer
the weather's hardly to blame,
no, forget that
we can
we will
always be blaming the weather
ask Aristotle
but maybe still there's something to it
the heat gets to the brains, the minds
propelling them to frenzies of inanity, insanity
the cold
freezing the minds and freezing the hearts
somewhere in Africa,
blood flowing down the hills
somewhere in Europe,
white flakes of human ash clouding the entrance to heaven
how can we go on after this?

May 5th, 2005, P#275 (20.1.23)

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