Image result for sad face in renaissance painting

Why is everyone sad? I know

Everyone is sad. They are sad wherever I go.

The girls are sad, who soon have breasts,

Lovely childhood gone, bringing grownup jests

And cruelty, and if she isn’t rude,

With a sad passivity she suffers the crude

Scenes creating scenes of shrinking space

For the crude, idiot, laughing, face,

The infantile, consumer, lout grinning,

In football jersey, because this side is winning.

And women of middle age more sad,

From this, if not completely mad.

Dignity defeats misery if it can,

But woman can’t, if it doesn’t live in a man.

Everyone is sad if the woman is sad.

She seeks good taste in loveliness,

Beauty brave in nails, face, and dress,

Which the male ignores. Woman

Cultivates woman and ends less human.

There’s her poems, describing suicide,

Rape, unpleasant men, to make poetry hide.

And if a man is smooth,

The woman fears to move.

Why is everyone sad? Death?

No, death’s a pleasant slumber—it does not explain every sad heart beat and breath.

Those in power, sad, knowing it will soon be gone,

And to have no power is misery.

You? You feel irritation at every little thing.

Your plant by the water has stopped drinking.

I wish I knew what made you sad, but my

Sad meditation itself is why

You don’t talk to me anymore.

But who knows there won’t be more sadness in store?

Oh silent one! Every dream I had

Was happy. But somehow I am sad.

Oh misery! I have too much to say.

The sad are dancing, dancing far away.






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