too long this distance served through innocence.
I know you still exist somewhere as plural in a two.
are you thirsting still for fickle's chance of arm?
another day tomorrow spins unconscious latter-days
limbs aside, how high a price I pay your sisters song?
a ferry-ride to the dumb sound of anon
trace my steps as author for a clue.
I am no less a man than you a woman pawned;
nine lives of cat. body mass. honeycomb engraved.
still I hear you spitting wood on a rolling tongue
on the right ear of the suns' nocturnal child
through bull and horn in a bees' bad tempered mind;
where are you, are you dead, or are you pleasantly disguised?
the gates are cracked, the solstice bells revived.
no second voice of life impatient one!
all rumours lead me close your womb of woes
I have seen you light a postcard with your nose
glow as lanters twinned with fathers feathers decomposed
to dance away an hour with a sleeping pill in drag.
shave your head a colour of my body in a bag;
spare me the blush of innocence, dearest one.
no day is safe from spite of sound, anon
I know you still exist somewhere as plural in a two
I am wide awake impatient one
trace my steps as author for a clue;
-
Author:
Melvin James (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 4th, 2024 11:44
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments2
To admit defeat even though it breaks your heart to miss something or someone stunning dear Melvin. Always an inspiration to me. 🌹
a big thank you my friend.
always.
Now I really appreciate your comment on my poem because this is just fantastic, mediocre in the least.
a very kind comment indeed...
thank you very much.
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