deepundergroundpoetry.com

All the Pretty Poppies

In the depths of the darkest berth
the darkest berth gave birth
beginning
with the deepest thought
of that which the deepest thought sought

The deception of the sweetest perfection�
perfection as a projection
into reverberation
of cool cold
to have and to hold
to buy the lie that is sold
in the stories that are told and retold

A nervous system of fractured fault lines
in states of ajar.

Disorderly receptivity aligned like vines
receiving the air.

Like jagged thoughts into manic minds
without a care.

Path of life twists turns burns & winds
absent of despair.

Beset with strange reminiscences
of unnamable potentially unknowable sadnesses.

Or possibly merely the remembrance
of things past in the vast shadow of a present presence -

of this existence
implanted in the soul and the darkest depths -

emerging in the sunshine breeze
like bleeding swaying ultra violet numb fields of opium poppies.

Written by Cipher_O

(WarlordoftheWrittenWord)

Published 2nd Jul 2021

Author's Note

I don't know... Something I sort of felt today... �but I must say: I is another?.. �kind of complex... �I don't communicate much with many people. �Let us make art of everything.