homeless thoughts carried home on the used crucifix
the white space rots within its spinning gravity
marble clean disinfected kisses
single standard sized rose -cut and red against
the washed scenery
realise that bollocks come in vases
And words slip in parades-sipped conversations
repair the dripping wallpaper
guilty fields of combed careful prescriptions
sober faced churches preaching locked doors
while drunks line up for Christ blood
and eager clawing rooftops collapse
when the sainted applause becomes the echo
went outside and buried my legs up to the knees
forced my head to stay cold
forced my growing heart to watch pinball stars heckle the shadow i knitted from the casting light
time for another casket
another thread of touch
after all if its all Bollocks whats not to enjoy
-
Author:
giantgentlebear (
Offline) - Published: September 13th, 2016 19:00
- Comment from author about the poem: about me carrying my childs white coffin--and since that 30 year old moment -i only believe in now
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 62
Offline)
Comments2
this is very deep and it seems that it is very personable to you...I love the way it was written,it kept me wanting to know more about what exactly u are talking about
pharoah - from the heart
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