I see
Ink-black lightning
Frozen, still
Against the
Television-static sky.
It sneers at
how small I am
And I flee it
To apophenic patterns
that shimmer
In piss-streaked hexagons
On the shower floor.
I have written florid stanzas
About the power of man
When faced with eternity
But there is nothing
Nothing
Nothing but me and you
And I mean
Really
Just the two of us
So deeply poisoned
By the intense certainty
Born of drinking the bark-blood
That sages and scholars say is
Spile-sweet, like victory
Just so long as
You ignore the dead.
-
Author:
Bigguy (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 16th, 2024 01:43
- Comment from author about the poem: Could use some help with this one.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments1
Full of vivid and unique images this poem conveys a sense of tension that is resolved at the end in demise. A very different feeling that goes with this poem electric yet dark. Loved the metaphors.
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