So many reasons why things are such
Constant pains, the agony of defeat
Yet I pick myself up from the waste lands
Fighting harder and harder still
Each knock I take strengthens me to endure
At the same time I am weakened
Through reflection I cast away the nonsense
Ultimately the inferno is further fueled
Like salt in a wound, the burning never ceases
The wolves bite at my flesh
Piece by piece I am torn apart and spit out
No one feels the given hurt until it is received
I do not participate in such senseless games
For my soul is divine, I am above these tragedies
Will is my comfort, the will of greatness
To spite my critics so the flames expand
Reaching the destined height, eternal fire
So many reasons why things are such
So shall it be from dawn till dusk...
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,