deepundergroundpoetry.com
Ephemera I
This is somebody's wasted light
its record in mindless unthought scrawl.
How many exposures are burned this way?
Little scraps lining workplace floors,
How high a pile can be made with sweeping?
What desolate dunes? What funeral fires?
Countless lives in service of nothing,
counting down to death.
its record in mindless unthought scrawl.
How many exposures are burned this way?
Little scraps lining workplace floors,
How high a pile can be made with sweeping?
What desolate dunes? What funeral fires?
Countless lives in service of nothing,
counting down to death.
Published 19th Nov 2021
Author's Note
It's been a long time, DUP! I've been busy with work and music. But I am excited to explore this series for myself. Inspired by a hallpass that was given to me in class, one of hundreds every year. I taped it into my survival notebook and wrote the poem around it.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
19th Nov 2021 3:52pm
We leave many scraps along the way but it's what is written upon them that matters most
20th Nov 2021 7:58pm
I love the variety of places that inspiration can come from... looking forward to reading more.
🙂k
🙂k
23rd Nov 2021 3:37am
Wow a great sublime muse here. I like the fiery effects of words here in usage. Kudos!
Plz do read and comment my newest poem too
Plz do read and comment my newest poem too
