The Exile



I’m now just an exile from a disappeared land,

whose path has been set by an unseen hand,

unloved, and unsung, and unknown to these

who walk through their lives on bloody bent knees,

shameful and broken, or hang from tall trees,

where love is for sale and hatred is free,

served with the news over coffee or tea,

where all are mad once for madness is all

when few mourn lost Virtue or Reason’s long fall,

and the wind in the grass, once a sweet breath,

brings darkness, brings storms, brings trouble and death,

yet Spring makes me sing and play my guitar,

for the notes are my dreams of a happiness far,

to be found on the maps of that ancient lost land,

that lies somewhere, they say, near old Samarkand.



3 comments on “The Exile

  1. sar108 says:

    Wonderful, Chris…You cannot be ‘normal’ and reach this archetypal level. not a word would I miss. I LOVE this one. It’s just perfect. anna
    /I am not getting your notifications, fb harasses me, I cannot write anything for hours, cannot copy-paste…/


  2. Christopher Black says:

    Thank you Anna. I am not getting much either and still am not allowed t post comments on anything-they disappear as soon as I make them. It’s really getting bad. I’m on VK but not so many people there yet. Are you on VK? If not please come there-Steppling and some others are there now. And it all began with me posting a photo of the red flag over Berlin and they asking if it was hate speech-next day i was banned from doing anything-now I can post again but no conversation allowed. Nazis


  3. Hannah Rush says:

    Reblogged this on The Winstanley Gazette.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s