Exhumation of the Forgotten

“Oh, good grief! How you do stand the-“

“Shh. Shut up and swing about.”

~*~

In passing of breathing pain –

a seldom voiced weight –

what prevents the difference

from crawling up a wall

and sainting the rib

into the murals of history?

In behest of tantalizing,

how does the blurry,

little drawing pecker itself

into a cubicle of still pretense?

That bastard!

That animal of mortal sense

running around against itself!

A Deadly Symphony

Image by Prawny from Pixabay

Neither there nor here –

dwelling in the inbetween where nothing is real,

yet it all lives and has its being.

Deem it a dream –

a heartbeat of torment perpetual.

It is madness viewed through the eyes of the eternal –

a foreign iconoclast so closely distant.

Dancing in the breeze like some aethereal sylph,

the heavens sing and the heart screams;

for the watcher has forgot to be human.

Romance of Thorns

Image by SvetlanaKv from Pixabay

Noble violin, take me on your strings

and gallop beyond the wind

of the tall grass and wheat fields.

In mornings like these,

your tears are honey drops

from the eaves of heartache.

Noble violin,

dance with me the waltz of sadness.

In shadows like these,

your manuscript bittersweet

announces the funeral of vision dazzled.

Take me home,

where the Castle of Night holds the crown of soul.

Take me home,

where I know I’m the silence between my thoughts.