Weeping

Something.

1

 

Deep in the blaze of trailing fall

The rain of shattered pieces of glass among buildings spindle littering the ground

And I made snow angels out of the debris

And the jigsaw was more beautiful broken

And the disease was more fruitful when spoken

 

The only reason the devil shook my hand was to haunt me

The people walking past my corner on the edge of a forested street

Where the sound of silence perforated the medley of heaven

I knew I was but a cloud in a skyline of stars

Bloating out the beautiful

 

Silence wrinkled ringed in my ears like a memory of a forgotten God

The words leaked through my fingers,

Teardrops as I hid my face under the umbrella of my hands

Drowning in a pool of myself

Dripping with the salt of an ocean kissing my still face

 

It’s funny sometimes

The sky dropping at my doorstep

The world curling its hands around my throat like a necklace

It’s cold sometimes

The people who dream never sleep

 

The city dreams too

And the town still beckons

Against the silver billowing of the fabric of life

And I clothe myself in memories

The bodies of those I love

 

I wear their skins.

I hear songs no one listens to

Anymore.

My life has passed me by and led me past death

I am still following collared

 

The animal domesticated to prey

Among the sheep.

They needed a shepherd dog

To group together the flock

When the wind gets cold

 

Their rhythm of footsteps dragging me towards the light

I can feel the heat on my pale skin

I can feel the glimmer

We cannot always glimmer

We must also fumble around

 

In the

Dark.

 

I cast a shadow lengthening

Into sentences

Into grey words

I wear leatherback covers and smother the sun

I didn’t ask you not to judge me

 

In the end, this prison is a jury of convicts

In truth, life is a trial

A trail I’ve not finished

Following lost men

Circling crows

 

2

 

Shuddering 

It started like a bluebird

Chirping from the ash tree

The words had fallen like discarded leaves

We no longer need to dream, now we sleep

 

Weeping

 

In the rain

You’d never know

You never knew me

Knew us

Anyway

 

“I had to tear you down to build you up”

They spoke

The foundation bears the weight of the tallest tower

These buds will wilt not flower

I am the dawn of every hour

 

I am the teardrop

In the cold shower

The rigging of telephone poles

A shoebox of abandoned thoughts

I don’t want anymore

 

And yet

And yet,

I remember

The harvest moon shining in August

 On damp city streets,

 

Glittering diamonds

Caught in the gutter of every sunrise

Hiding behind the trees

Between the leaves homogeneous

The romance between the muddy sky and the mirror of earth

 

Streetlamps of hippocampus

Amps of lanterns baptising horizons lilac

The way it puts its arms around you like an old mother

The way it clothes you in your father’s boots

Sometimes, if it were but so easy

 

The corn maze of city blocks

The houses between the treetops

And the morning torn by clouds

Enshrouded hourglasses fashioned by ash trees

Crawling on the breeze

 

Perhaps you never loved me

But you could understand

My solitary life

But given time

Maybe this body could learn to love you

 

These wounds may heal

In time

The blaze of trailing fall

Under sun kissed bungalows

The summit shows me

 

I would rather climb than fall

From the rock bottom till the peak

I’ll crawl, frolicking

Until the heavens in a blender

Surrender endlessness to the feathers

 

Of a winged memory

And Icarus is a felt-tip pen

Paint trails riverbeds drying on a mural to the concrete of clouds

Drawing bottomless August winds

That shiver under skin

 

As graffiti speleothems rending spectral cemeteries

Empty eyeholes where windows used to be

Closed doors forming their Ouroboros

Storming corneas floorboard corridors metamorphosis

The eyes of a tiger

 

Wiser than those who would bite the hand that feeds

Cold and beautifully

Without mercy

Eating away at the forest until it is the only thing left

But the crescent moon

 

A juvenile survivor of twilight’s scythe

Reaping terpsichorean

Sowing the seeds of

Breeding,

Its own demons

Author's Note

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

Reviews

[Davidgeo]

we don't troll each other enough.

[Davidgeo]

You're a significantly better writer than me but, I don't think you know why.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Honestly I have no idea for why you think I’m better.

My trolling needs work, I have a long way to go there. Feel free to troll me anytime, it’s in good fun.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

And by the way, I just want to thank you. It means a lot to me that someone knows me to be a good poet.