Sunday whirl

Turnin’ up limb fer limb
Piece by piece
Blood shatters our mission in glass
Vitrified by the kiln in us ‘earts
We walk’t line ‘Tween fire and laughter
Thee only truth
Is the glimmer in us eyes
That thee mined af’er
Our porcelain faces crack
In a furnace o’ fists
That’s t’ smack o’ it
No turnin’ back from’t rubble o’ it
It’s true, we’re burnin’ t’ world at both ends
It’d be a crime if we knew any different

Sunflower night

Sunflowers push through whack-a-mole ‘oles
In’t night sky
Golden flowered stars blurred by eyes
An airscape t’ feast time
Puffs o’ cloud scryin’ t’morrows sunrise
Droopin’ petals.                                     rainin’ golden blossom.

Inspired by prompt

Also inspired by Van Gogh paintings, where I mixed up ideas from two of his paintings in my head to write this.

Maybe you can guess which ones?

There is a sadness
No orchestra to fade
In the marrow of my bones
No melody for tears
the world and its antics
Marred the eyes that roll – marbled down the drain

There is unquenchable anger
Caged behind ribs
Though we know with collective sigh
That forgiveness doesn’t meet knuckled shame
And we were fringe, in lions mane
Accumulating rage

Even paper tigers sliced us
Our fragility holds no thrill
Apex predators? Questionable
And to think we’re most vulnerable
Within our exoskeletons
Rushing from z to a

And what of the badger
Flattened
The world might just slink away, indifferent
in the spin of tyres