The needles write love on my knuckles
while the blades write hate
I will not be stilled
till earth and water whittle me down
I could only wish
it would be quicker somehow
these waters are troubled
I’m crumbling as rubble
becoming the froth on the water’s edge
a slow release and decay
I wish to be dust not tomorrow but today
I am not a sabal palm
or anything other rugged
I cannot withstand eras
this earth is not my home but a cage
life
There is always something that can live in the crevices of death
My words are cheap
and empty
just like me.
I say what comes
to the tip of the tongue
but underneath the letters
is a skeleton waiting
to discard this flesh.
I keep trying to commit to life, living
but I think I prefer death
without the dying
maybe I’m just afraid
of continuance
Like how the world turns no matter
the begging for it to stop
or how there is always something
that can live in the crevices of death
Because what the fuck does that mean to me?
It’s no comfort to me
that our energy continues to feed
the continuance of this monstrous world’s greed
~
Alternative ending
Because what the fuck does that mean to me
when the earth consumes you
while I’m still above the soil
shedding skin, dying and therefore still living?
Sunday wordle on a Monday.
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/
We rest unforgiven
Mere willowy meat on bones
Time hums it’s artificial tunes
Street lights blinking
As our prayers go on trickling
Through the myths we were sold
Too lost to run
We must accept our fate
Along with the birds
Full of spirits today
Back to earth tomorrow
Death is human
I am much too tired to keep up the chase
Embroiled in this decline
All my friends, they die
And that would be okay
If I had faith
That the cycles of life weren’t being erased But what the fuck is there left to say?
As I suckle from the teat Knowing no better way?
There was a time when even death teemed with life
It seems no coincidence
Our depiction of death
is the skeleton
Of a fellow homosapien
A counter to life ‘isn’t beautiful’ << I hate that word though
The clouds descend but then they clear away
the rain giving life to parched greenery
A bittern booms in the periphery
a little egret pirouettes, unfurling into an epiphany
A heron circles like a twisted rope
giving room for a flicker of hope
as he lands down in his dishevelled robes
Life isn’t beautiful
I’m tired of life
It’s always full of emptiness
we fill our time with TV
And any other screens
moving wallpaper over the teeth
underneath
that grind us
Tonight I don’t care for that nature’s green
it’s all a rollercoaster ride
beneath those canopies
pain and suffering hide
At least in winter, it’s plain to see
illusions revealing their skeletal remains
A butterfly isn’t beautiful
it’s a flutter of a moment
it’s death painted pretty
A blackbirds song isn’t melodic
it’s desperation dressed as music
trying to hang onto dear life
and I have to ask, why?
Is this alchemy or are we human to humus
Is this alchemy
or are we just fools?
Looking for silver lines
where there is no gold
Is a clod of earth just dirt to us?
Something to cleanse away
as if we didn’t come from the dust
that we will return to one day
NaPoWriMo: video editing minds
We fold so much into our heads
Video tapes playing and editing themselves
As days and years pass by
But each passing moment
We believe the faded pictures
Forgetting the details we’ve left behind
Yet we feel the presence of the abscences
But the feeling is overridden by a certaintity
We know our own minds
NaPoWriMo: Pushing up daises
If we push up daises when we’re dead
does that mean we’re all gardeners in the end?
but…
No. On second thoughts
it’ll just be another shade of death
when some fellow human ape
comes along with weed killer.
NaPoWriMo:Modern Dinosaurs
To a worm a blackbird Is like T rex
Haven’t you heard?
The dinosaur is in the magpies Sqwark?
In the titter tatter of bird talk
Dinosaurs have their beady eye on you
From between the leaves
Hunting and singing
Perching and swinging
Souring above your head
The rattle of a dinosaur.
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 