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Old city bones
Contributed by
iodinelove
on
Tuesday, 7th June 2005 @ 12:46:32 AM in AEST
Topic:
EmotionalPoetry
|
A quiet street across the absent night continues,
coagulates, encompasses the sound and sounds
of dirty city feet crookedly carrying blues
and burdens forward, furthering the endless bounds,
furthering the silent threaded noose across the open page,
until, in the end, we are all suffered flesh eating the flesh of hounds
And vagabonds, cursing our fingers, cursing our age,
set closed with sweat and lies, blood and bone;
set naked weeping for our lives, our rusted, empty cage.
And we remember a time when the bluebirds sang over every phone,
over every wreath and flower, over every house and home;
and we remember, away from the city lights, away from the closing stone,
The smells of a drying, salted mead on the breath of an old, dying tome
calling us brother and sister and fish, telling us stories of long ago days
when a tired old man walked over the sea, over the sand and over the foam;
When that tired old man opened his mouth and sang praise
for you and I, and every little piece of dust and sky.
We remember what we lost in the dirt and haze
Of the fresh city night before the lights sizzle and die,
before the coffee grows cold and the old cities bones
crumble and fall; we remember the lie.
Copyright ©
iodinelove
... [
2005-06-07 00:46:32]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Old city bones
(User Rating: 1 )
by shelby on
Tuesday, 7th June 2005 @ 03:17:16 AM AEST
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a Message)
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breath taking write and dont even have words to fit this
Michelle |
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Re: Old city bones
(User Rating: 1 )
by sillysal on
Saturday, 1st April 2006 @ 05:25:49 PM AEST
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a Message)
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I would not separate this into stanzas but it does need a break now and again.
It also tends to ramble a bit but I enjoyed the read nonetheless.
:)Sandy |
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