I don’t know why, but some of my poems have been getting quite gory and gruesome, and I hate it. I am also an official hypocrite now, because I absolutely HATE edgy, jumbled, gory prose. In fact, I often find myself picking up a New Yorker Magazine and mocking the tasteless poems they showcase. I think I just want to fit in…oh well. Darn stupid poet-pressure!
Another gory poem coming your way…
The loneliness is stooped upon the grass
A touch of tatter’d longing where was none
And now the world spins long and light and fast
A thousand moons have shown though be but one.
I whisper to an empty face that dies
That leaves without goodbye to last alone
Your heart does melt like wax before my eyes
I grasp it’s void of closeness that has grown,
And slip away unnoticed through the cracks
With you to lead my way that spans quite far
I loose myself in blood and blues and blacks
We both are torn from life that leaves it’s scar:
I wake, the morning quiet, still,and warm
And breathe relieving breathes when you ne’er form.
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry