Saturday, January 21, 2012

Portcullises


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
  

                 


4 comments:

  1. 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...

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  2. haha...you know when i read channel surfing, i thought you were doing something adventurous on water...now back reading the poem...smiles

    Brittle’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..

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  3. "But it is dark and I cannot see
    The pronation
    Of my own hands"

    My favorite lines in an incredibly powerful piece. Really great write.

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  4. 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.

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