deepundergroundpoetry.com
it could be this
It could be the first footprint of the sun
Which quells the disquiet of
Another jangled jaundice night.
It could be a nightingale’s throat cancer,
Reels sad shanties onto abandoned schooners
Adrift in the minds of delicate Gods.
This could be when the night wakes in the middle of you;
Beholden to a silver disc roar, helpless,
You become the moon.
Yes, it could be this.
No more than this,
Metaphors could be the
Psychobabble of our pandemic age,
Rage against the dying of the page.
An iPhone recording of the last sounds from Earth
And laughter -
Nothing but laughter.
Which quells the disquiet of
Another jangled jaundice night.
It could be a nightingale’s throat cancer,
Reels sad shanties onto abandoned schooners
Adrift in the minds of delicate Gods.
This could be when the night wakes in the middle of you;
Beholden to a silver disc roar, helpless,
You become the moon.
Yes, it could be this.
No more than this,
Metaphors could be the
Psychobabble of our pandemic age,
Rage against the dying of the page.
An iPhone recording of the last sounds from Earth
And laughter -
Nothing but laughter.
Published 6th Apr 2022
Author's Note
ERULGCT 136. Uma xx The hinges of the Universe seem to be breaking. Unhinged.
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.
7th Apr 2022 00:07am
7th Apr 2022 3:30pm
Ha! Have never been deemed cool before. I cool with that. Many thanks for the read & feedback. Appreciated.
