deepundergroundpoetry.com
Owls in the Ruins
Burn the night in tungsten fire light
Shadow tree faces scowl on drapery walls
We have become owls in ruins.
Brothers’ and sisters’ tears sprout weeds,
Voices of saints now damned chant hymns
Once holy now puke fetid words.
Catacombs, skulls, teeth, rotting flags
Trading scalps and tongues for money
The dead foraged, splayed, turned to meat.
Glancing moon, glowing sulfur reek
Yellow eyes, Mother’s livid pall,
Night prey long ago devoured.
Turn away, we crush our own throats,
We tear our flesh, drinking our blood,
Only food to quell this last glut.
Our span, pushing back raving's call,
Wind's low whisper with no hunts left,
Slow flight and fragile buildings fall.
Shadow tree faces scowl on drapery walls
We have become owls in ruins.
Brothers’ and sisters’ tears sprout weeds,
Voices of saints now damned chant hymns
Once holy now puke fetid words.
Catacombs, skulls, teeth, rotting flags
Trading scalps and tongues for money
The dead foraged, splayed, turned to meat.
Glancing moon, glowing sulfur reek
Yellow eyes, Mother’s livid pall,
Night prey long ago devoured.
Turn away, we crush our own throats,
We tear our flesh, drinking our blood,
Only food to quell this last glut.
Our span, pushing back raving's call,
Wind's low whisper with no hunts left,
Slow flight and fragile buildings fall.
Published 5th May 2017
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5th May 2017 10:11pm
