A fight to the death
on the priarie
Is a hot-shot way
to foot the reckoning
for the bright pink bloom of resurgence
knotted in perennial grass
Remembered in the dazzling dark silhouettes
the sun sets, an indifferent God
we wish upon
Written for Sunday Whirl
In the sink of our hearts
A thicket o’ rush
where the river runs
A volcanic bomb o’ flush
rinsed our faces scarlet
A momentary hush
The days dawn had broken
and the music held yesterdays momentum
the melody tied our stomachs down
anchoring us forward
and the sun looked criminal
shining upon us in the midst o’ such a dour mornin’
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
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
Golden shimmers upon dragons glimpse
Secrets spread in wild fringe
The air holds the names of battles, grim
Where illusions stir us from our skins
Cradled in the world that churns us in
The skeletal remains of our chagrin
Trapped in cage of ribs
The butterflies flitter away our whims
The monotonous yellow hum of the lights held us sideways
Our bags all a rustle on our backs
Contorting us into hunchbacked old children
Our grandfather’s legacy in our faces
Ever mercurial, our expressions of piety
To the altar of education, education, education
As we tried to find the shadows of what we learnt
Within that yawning void of hums
Trains of thought sacrificed along with the gleams in our eyes
As we breathed ourselves closed
Speeding headlong till it burnt behind our eyes
Mercy was a talisman we tried to wear with pride
Like armbands
As we gazed upon the rumours of our futures, swimming the tide
And the scars of the place held us in contempt
Before any crime
What did we raze for these serpent roads
to roll as armoured beasts
to what slain saints of the underworld do we owe our gratitude
as we crawl as great hulks
through the mist of our every herds breath
traffic lights, the storytellers to this entity as one
as we blink our hooded eyes out of the sun
this long, long beast a dragons tail, serpentine
roars with impatient voices
waiting, longing, straining
for the emeralds.
The constellations were scribbled in the sky
a scribe for reckoning with the here and now
history ablaze
blows our future to old beginnings
renewed for our narrow minds
always running us in circles to what we shall become
ashes to ashes
and to dust, we shall return
The yellowing of our fate
was just the suns bluff
it had soothed our souls
with its spill of rays
but alas, fall had torn
flushed leaves asunder
ready for the raspy breath
of winters plunder
the hiss of the breeze snaking its way through the leaves
no longer
as lifes greedy show of green
finds a safe haven below, under
wrapped around the larvae
of next years wonders
The weed did creep
revealing the
slack in our towns
of concrete their
roots spin and whirl
taking grip in
the crack of our
retreat with a
curl
it searches for
the light a glimpse
of what we for-
got, Lord knows what
looms for us our
eyes did strain to
see the stain of
blood coming for
us.
Authors note: I have not one clue about the different formations of ‘poetry’, so forgive my attempt at some kind of… well, whatever the fuck it is…
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 