time march

Posted: September 10th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Poetry | No Comments »

The sprinkling fire coming from my pores
Speaks of unrequited majesty
Bleeding green ooze followed by
Bone deterioration and weakening ores
Cells struggling under tar pulling
Dying arms and fists up into the air
Emaciated little bundles of flesh
Too dull to snap falling back
The earth confiscated what was once
Flying around mazed and incomplete
Oily rainbow pool at the center
Rippling out reverberating endlessly
Never reaching another entity

Under the opaque surface she finds nothing she could have expected. Massive whales pushing against each other fighting for breath, wiggling like giant worms rubbing their ridges together, spurting slightly. Loud cries you can feel inside.

Where is the gold loopy music, the sound of people waltzing and laughing merrily? They all have homes and sometimes it takes a carriage to get to them. Wicked table cloths with silverware and people playing piano and string instruments, shuffling feet and speaking beneath their words, in and out, growing hair and nails until the insufferable moment where they pass away, and now they are in only movies, like in that jungle where the natives live, dancing around fire with the fireflies all around, the sounds of crickets and something roasting over the in ground grill. Screams of women being raped.

Moonshine brewer off at a distant alcove on his acreage, filled with trees hundreds of years old, next to a small body of water where the air is damp and the ground is moist, sweat beads up on your face and you can taste the green around you, mixed with fresh dirt. Walking out of the wood into a night air where beauty is all around you, diamonds in the sky, quiet wood structures and even a fragrant flower here and there, amongst the fleets of wild flowers on the outskirts, connecting one future road to another. The innocent scent of cow manure must be coming from the west skirted with barbed wired future fences.

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