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Forever Breathes The Lonely Word

From my Father this strong heart
From Mother the fear
From the soil the rage
From the afternoon storm
(Into which I entered, Stage Left)
The humility, before and after,
Actors circle the backdrop of a new play.

The day’s final breath bathes in
Industrial fumes, diesel, space hubris
Sky dust falls unheralded -
Its regal silence answers the question:
“How can you write poetry in a place like this?”
Are we merely trying to read
The braille of the years between
With stumped fingers?
Desengano drums from a frontier, gone.
Beat of stretched skin.
 
It still all might be
What it is –
When it will be.
Quietness is coming
Its certainty is assured.

Valleys are split
By a different mist,
I, You, Us
The sleeping human habitat
Steal dreams from neighbours ~

In avenues and alley ways
Of bloodshed countryside
Animals fuck and fight with cleavers.

Banking of wings
Gust blown-swinging
Gulping for air,
That all spring
Has been almost empty.

Rattle of mountain scree
Guides Gulls to descend,
Cornfields, skinned plains;
Streamed in the garden
A corned yellow trail
To cruellest of seas
Which have nothing to be ashamed of.

Venus steps from pink’ed lips
From slit shell, all the pearls
In unchartered seas are black.
She stops the light,
But even Venus
Is speechless now.

Forever breathes the lonely word
Enmeshed in vapours
Of verb and vowel vespers.
In canticles or burning candles
Beyond the bouquets of barbed deaths.

Foremost, Latin is dead
So ‘in putris naturalibus’
We seek chain(ed) letters.
Language will survive
Nailed to nebulae?
Crucified by cynical distancing?
It will survive.

They who once did flee from me
That sometime did me seek,
Have all fled into twilight turrets.
Lead us from their fate.

Our pillows are packed in one case
Feathers flight o’er desolate stations
Platform tannoy screams to sighs

And yet
The mind turns.

The only voice I hear is you
Forever breathes your lovely words.

 

#ERULGCT #3

Pic. 28 Days Later. Good film.
Strangeways_Rob
Written by Strangeways_Rob
Published
Author's Note
#Umanoid XX Experimental-ish. Scribbled binge watching Peaky Blinders. Was born in a storm at 14.00. Says much. Mind you, just in time for the 15.00 football kick offs. In the midst of life we are in...
#Umanoid XX Experimental-ish. Scribbled binge watching Peaky Blinders. Was born in a storm at 14.00. Says much. Mind you, just in time for the 15.00 football kick offs. In the midst of life we are in debt etc etc.
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