workshop
the final sojourn
I have in my WILL endorsed
my bier should have four parachutes
one at each end
lest I decide on the earth to descend
yet once again
as I'd not know
how the world will toil
without my poetry
tilled from my mind's soil
albeit no one may listen to me
try to abandon the aircraft
shall remain a desire so carefree
ere the final destination of the sojourn
at the far end of never ending space
I hope to move on
Albeit
now you add on..
the place of RV
Canto Two ~ It is twenty years ago of a Harsh morning.
Prince Carl’s war has been fought and lost. As his mother had long warned, King Cartive’s grip upon the Legions of Lurien is near absolute. The armies of Illian, though abetted by a populace that willingly followed Carl into disaster, have been decimated. Cartive now holds the proletariat through all of Lurien hostage to Prince Carl’s surrender.
In spite of human cruelty,
the sun still shines everyday.
She cares not who's rich or poor,
but simply knocks on every door,
or creeps through the windowsill
to end the gloom and quit the chill,
then weaves her threads a perfect shawl
to warm when coldness starts to crawl.
The grass is nourished and the beast
whenever she smiles at the east.
It only takes a minute or two
to feel how much her love is true.
Haunted by my past
Realizing the fact
That I'm more alone due
In part to the abusive nature
I embraced to subdue the greater
Flaw of not being a man
Seeking freedom in frantically
Drinking to ease
The nervousness of being
Worthlessness
Purposeless
Death being what i'm flirting with
Knowing my aim
Has to be getting over these growing pains
Stillletto heels
and sandalwood musk
Tangle the dream catcher’s snare
Siren call
Penetrates unguarded
the
Drunken lies
Pouring through pity
Sweetening the dream
Silken hair binds the web
Shimmering
Whipping the lather
Frothing with want
Sinew bends
suffocating air
torched by passion
Gasps upon lips
wine soaked
and wanting
thrusts penetrate
the dawns break
to the window seat view
cure all magic
cigarettes and midnight
solving cramped workings
and broken limbs
beneath bulbs and their gathering
of mosquitoes and moths
tired wallpaper and echoes
feel their way like the forest herbs
and alms
outside high above the forest climbing valleys
and crests are stars burning hot and brilliant
sharp eyes watchful
the mill town hungry for anything fresh waits
fresh as the cold spring waters that sluice
away the congestion of past
spring baptisms
cabin fever should not be a possibility
with so much family around.
their presence should simply counter the lonely
the madness
I am at home now, technically
but I feel so cold and no one notices
you would notice.
you call me from your house
and tell me you want to go home.
my stomach is sick and empty
I just don't get hungry anymore
my head spins as laurie tells me i'm going too fast
ease off the gas
don't use the brake
look over your shoulder
listen to my exact instructions.
He stood alone
beneath the broken old
street light.
Tired pavement
crumbling beneath his boots.
Glancing around
checking his watch.
Time was ticking
he didn't want to miss out.
Out of the darkness
she came on noiseless feet,
it's me you seek
Stunned momentarily
by her appearance,
he quickly recovered
back to business at hand
There were assholes
to deal with
no time for introductions
Killer didn't want to miss the chance
my father in heaven where
hello my son
this is your father from heaven
since we parted so many have I adopted
so many lie on my lap all day
sleeping and snoring
so many want to stay with me
so son as long as you can
do remain with your clan
ere you come and then miss them too
as now we all do you
but some day when you arrive
shackled old and decrepit
how will I recognize you
O son, I am now fresh fighting
no more blue
Night scraped it's knees on wet pavement
leaving smears of blood neon-red
Ebony tree arms were reaching out
while the street-lights shone overhead
Darkness lay down on the grass
and covered itself with the dew
The stars peeped out from the sky
where they had lain, hidden with blue
Sounds and colors are muted
A different scene unfolding it seems
The night people are waking from slumber
while day ones are dreaming their dreams
Pages
(c) Neopoet.com. No copyright is claimed by Neopoet to original member content.