Before I am Famous

literature is something we infer after the story is told

Things Unsaid

Posted on | June 19, 2008 | No Comments

Where were you when the sun went black
the world asunder
dreams of fortune await the one
with gold in the aura slippers
of silk covering
hands bold and wrinkled ageless wonders
of night eclipsing the hunter
brackish foliage weep
burning days and night encased
in ice. The time has come.

Blue. Eyes glazed
falling commas upon happenstance of forevers
unanswered so you say but
this is the way
to dripping grass and cold lava
eruption from the belly wandering
gnomes smile in the tress
blind by heat searching for
radiance
you are not deserving.

To you
when August rushes in with
the thoughts of flying caterpillars
in dusty trails
roses of winter
withering sadness. Moving sand
swift like comets reaches the fore front
of the id. Suffocating is reality

So it is then
the leather is wrapped
balloons and coal left
crimson crap swims free in the dirt
clouds pucker for a kiss
that will never be shared.
Heed the warning from inside
You are not ready.

Category: poetry corner

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