deepundergroundpoetry.com
In The Dead Of Summer
Timeless time, limitless space, summer gapes long with heavy, dizzy sighs,
a burning mirage on the distant plains, drowning in a thick layer of swaying heat
An atmospheric vibration filled with W's, and Z's , when summer slashes his skin,
when cicadas start your fuzzy morning, and the temper just sizzles, and your mouth seethes ;
and whizzles inside the thickly loaded pines, and cypress.A dizzy swirl of dust,
that revives a cliched flashback vibe of some time ago.
This morn, i strode, and shuffled along the pathway, no sigh of sheep, or guardians of the forest,
its a fuzzy under-wood, growing with lazy birds and scattered smoke butts of some lost souls..
No motion in the still airs, like a snapshot taken from a black vintage movies, and then it melts and
dissolves like an omelet.........
This very silence takes me to Hills have eyes while these hills have only locusts, lizards, snakes,
and much more flies, that i feel a spawning action each time i gape, then all the flies vanish....
.....i have no water bottle, no emetic herb, nothing, but a pen i shove into my mouth and vomit........
A crazy summertime, a crazy summer boy between the clutches of an empty void, a lost bled,
and a careless community, if ever you get bitten by a poisonous snake, then no one would ever notice you.
...until you become a mummy.........
The sun has reached a vertical heat, right over my head,, a slaughtering boiling wave falling on my body,
but for a word, for a poem gleaned, like those far wheat fields where the poor peasants toil all the summer long, under a killing sun, and for a sensation felt,, a feeling truthfully transmitted ,all the heat, was only my background, the back stage of a scene where the antagonist is but a human carrier of a poetry from the field onto the books to be shelved.onto the market to be sold at a very high price,.............................................................while the books sell by the balance of a coster-monger.....
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