Martyrdom and the Town CrierA Poem by MattVoscinar
With our backs pressed against skyscrapers wondering why its shadow overtakes us,
We are taken for granted by an avid misinterpretation
Beads of sweat drip down foreheads furrowed and uncovered.
Cloud colored concrete embraces broken yellow lines and stumbles drunk to hotel rooms unlocked.
Do Not Disturb
Familiar loopholes from unsung hymns tied together like makeshift flesh nooses,
Wrapped around and bruising the necks of vodka bottles endless.
Barely breathing birth of a burden unspoken of and buried sentimental.
The growth of such things is benign and seems harmless to the untrained eye.
We left one sided arguments uncontested and wrong.
Dottels still burning, our last sanctified desire, wretched and sordid.
Minds of once laudable nature left mad and deprived by an imitation of modern art.
Un-holiest of un-holies!
The endless deadly sins of a generation’s good intentions misplaced
Have allowed me to mishandle your vows and drool ecstasy.
I trembled through a winter night naked,
On those who cannot see the blaze.
They say there is no love like a mother’s love and it is true!
Oh, Joan of Arc!
Oh, sister of a burning cross!
Scatter my ashes over the sea and let it bathe in my memory.
Your heavenly voice precedes you.
I can hear you in my cell!
I can hear you in your drunken streets singing:
Will thy angels sing your song
© 2011 MattVoscinar
Added on June 24, 2010
Last Updated on January 19, 2011
AboutI'm a nineteen year old poet/hip hop artist who is quite active in the Central Florida scene. I'm currently attending college to major in English/Secondary Education. more..