//mypoeticside.com/

L. B. Mek

Starlight’s, shepherding: as spatial kinesics

 

 

Moonlight, granting farsighted spectral signs

peeking, through wishful neon lights

and shadow spheres wrapped in hollow fears

 

no cushioning this somber notes

heavy burdens leaning on overworked forearms

blood rivers, in eyes - wide: awake

yearning that escape of concussed, bliss

lights-out, freedom

from this pummelling of life.

 

Eyelashes quivering, tiredness overwhelming

yet that wink of a half-moon smirk

twinkles and dances, teasing a galaxy of lies

 

beyond all-things bleak

must surely reside, that promise land

of all-things bright

how else can our universe, drink light

swimming in black

its unrelenting blanket of stygian night

thriving proud, like

millions of galaxies are inconsequential 

to its all-conquering

hopelessness of eternal bleakness, but surely

it too, is but a mere shadow

of that hopeful better in existence’s, virescent colour.

 

Shuffling those echoes of ruffled worries

once more, a staring match till dawn

now blinking resembles a foreworn habit

too late, to try and shut-out fate

tomorrow’s problems are wide awake

in today’s, hurtling seconds

 

maybe, just quit

surrender like all the rest, give-in

and swallow regret 

like a morning-after pill, for consequence

why not? When drugstores

brazenly, sale everything addictive for cheap

flavoured in greed

 

sleeping pills, too

and who needs food

when supplement, pills

can last a month, surely

that will do

 

but, will it?

 

Can it be that easy, and if so

why do our wilful homeless

look, even more weary – I guess

escapism, has its own price

 

but, drunk hearts

and drug addled, minds 

get to take space flights

traverse, impossible mirages  

in a blur 

land anywhere and laugh

asking why: they’re still here, draped 

in all-things sufferingly drear.

 

Belatedly, nature begins to embrace daybreak

and eyebrows strain, a last squint

one shimmering star: still lingers - incandescent

 

across lightyears of a blinked promise

a whisper, sends its solace

not yet - not yet! 

There’s still hope, while I draw breath

there’s still love, in all that I possess

and if all else fails, there’s: still you

for me, to reach out to…

 

 

© L. B. Mek

July 2021