We will be demolished in good time
no matter how eager we shout from our chests
we will turn where we are left to lie
Left to age again one more time
I am afraid, with much doubt there will be no stepping into white light
Those tales of afterlife, immortality will have been the biggest scams of our lives
So with all that said, this is the one life we know ourselves to have
And our legacy? Well, that’s not up to us to write
its all written in another’s mind
prompt
Spiral Skeletal Helter Skelter
I’ve got spiral staircase skeletal remains
in me jackboot hidebound laugh of a patchwork body
knock on wood, ya can hear the shallow refrains
rolling like marbles in me brain
I was ground to clown by tryin’ t’ stay supersane
now i’m helter skelter
a draft written up and screwed
thrown in the bin in a ball o’ white rose petals
a sham written in’t flesh
No doubt about it, no God could craft this.
Ameneurosis
Plastic bottle lungs wheezed under rattles o’ nettles
along with the dusty breath o’ old sleepers underneath our feet
scuffin’ our lungs as we headed forlorn into the gapin’ maw of sorrows feat.
The gaps in our teeth whistled our rush
The air was terminal, a yawnin’ chasm o’ our fill
as the day gasped its final hush
And then we felt it, the jolt beneath our feet
Then came the chuggin’ o’ steel and sparks
a ghost train hauntin’ us with its owlish hoots
Steamrolling the breath perched in our lungs
our breath that held us tight in our hidebound chests
Exhalation felt like another absence
a truancy that staked our hearts as rebels
Ameneurosis
Flutters Dance
Behind our eyes a mirror of voices
A chorus behind our stories and choices
Time spans a butterflies wings
weaving tapestries, blinked
our roots, doors unhinged
today’s present was never prophecy
but by flutters dance we are here
on the tail end of of butterfly prayer
The grind
We were twine o’ thread knottin’ time
bent us snaggle toothed spines needlin’ at the grind
We were fusty with British stiff upper lip
with sabre toothed vanity, mining us extraterrestrial in coal an’ lime needlin’ at the grind
We dreamed o’ greenin’ the land
cigarettes chained to us ‘ands needlin’ at the grind
We erased that which we wished to glimpse
In a trailblaze of exhaust fumes, steerin’ the grind
We extolled the land by mouth
And demarcated it with the other ‘and steelin’ uselve’s fer the grind
An attempt at this week’s W3
Prayer o’ land
A familiar shape
In prayer o’ land
Where the butterflies fritter
ying & yang
Gnomes Rutting Season
Please read the following with David Attenborough’s voice in mind.
..And now a donsy of gnomes
Gather away from their homes
Awaiting their companions
In diplodocus canyon
And as the males start to rut
The females choose, each, their hut
Readying it for their young
And soon, gnomlings run amok
This was written for W3
Tuesday Tanka: A look through a moment rearview
Through din of traffic
Calligraphy bloomed music
Blue wisteria
Reflections clanged through rear view
Butterfly hung from mirror
An attempt at this weeks prompt: Dandelion’s teeth
Dandelion’s teeth, wisp o’ t’hills
spans us splendid gossamer summers
diaphanous splendour, warblers trill
natural dopamine uppers
our frayed edges no longer other
no more hushful wishes, jus’ tranquil
only us and our green mother
forever and ever entangled
Authors note:
This dandelion has it’s roots here
Mr Grief Crow & Golden Joinery
Like a bull in a China shop
Mr Grief Crow dashed to and fro
Sentimental values perched in our throats
Do not take from us we begged
But Mr Grief Crow croaked, ‘break what ya mend, sew what ya broke’
And with golden joinery
we bend what we know.
This was inspired by this prompt
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 