Were we ever of this world, have you ever felt
that fast flowing rhythm of the afterlife, the dark,
or are we simply more fresh kindling. glowing
as the coffins slowly melt.
We were the wind, whilst it was blowing,
through the skirting, in the cupboard and on the plains,
summoning the prophets, calling the wise men,
fanning the flames.
We were the snow whilst the bizzard rages
whilst the watchman gazes as the world turns raw,
covering the new graves,
we creep off the stage through that creaking door.
We were the sun whilst the sun was shining,
illuminating our near forgotten past,
burning our never to happen future,
yellowing the parchment in which we were cast.
We were the fire, whilst the fire was burning.
warming the now scattered bones,
charring the blood black with ash,
cremating what flesh remains, smothering our useless moans.
We were the clouds, whilst the sky was cloudy,
lost worlds in their centre of despair,
see the sleek, round, brown plague rats
the ships beached and helpless that carried them there.
We were life and now we are not, we are no more,
we were that which came before and died before,
we were all we were and never ever more.
poetryrepairs #242 17,123:
Glittering tears cascade through tangled hair
innocent eyes torment as fingers grasp at a drowning mans straw
clutching to the bitter end that na´ve disastrous faith
regretting a hundred lonely moments, a millennium of heartache, the agony
Still she dreams of what could be
refusing to accept the reality of what is
brushing aside stark unpalatable facts
which she sees as the only hindrance to her goal
Stretching her imagination to breaking point,
the future success and ultimate triumph assured
eyes blinkered, ears deaf, mind manacled,
friends unnoticed in the inevitability of the end
until that final shattering blow of complete disaster
defeats her utterly as she always knew it would
poetryrepairs #242 17,123:123/P>
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