As
I was channel surfing,
I realized
There wasn’t anything on,
Except a bunch of
boring
Documentaries
about drills
There’s solace in the mark of sound
And a fade is sure to follow
Brittle’s become the charm of
man
Breaking before the break
began
Grey,
the darkening of alabaster walls
White, the abused metaphor of purity
Red, stands for life yet also
death,
But it is dark and I
cannot see
The
pronation
Of
my own hands
Gates, doors
Turning keys
The locks adjust
Tourniquet
Portcullises
of the past reset
first...that is a cool word...i cant spell it but...ha...documentaries about drills eh...hmmm...sounds holey...lol the last stanza has a wicked flow and progression to it as well...
ReplyDeletehaha...you know when i read channel surfing, i thought you were doing something adventurous on water...now back reading the poem...smiles
ReplyDeleteBrittle’s become the charm of man
Breaking before the break began...maybe i'm a bit off-topic with this but this really speaks to me...about an hour ago, i thought...i'm feeling brittle today...still do... doesn't go away so easily..but maybe not a bad point to be... fine write fred..
"But it is dark and I cannot see
ReplyDeleteThe pronation
Of my own hands"
My favorite lines in an incredibly powerful piece. Really great write.
That's why you have a wall of over 2000 dvds, then no need to channel surf is there is always something to watch..haha no need to mess with those locks and slide those doors, unless you have them hidden behind glass of course, the Portcullises they might be.
ReplyDelete