Monday, June 11, 2012

A Song for the Dead and Ugly


This
this is a song
this
this is a song

for the dead
…and ugly too

Broken flowers
tamped to floor
crushing blows expanding more
amongst the weeds growing high
crushing blows expansive sighs

It’s a wicked sound
the wickedest of all
where symbols sob
and lyrics fall
but the pain
it never lies….
no, the pain…
IT NEVER DIES

Cursory is all that’s left

broken, bruised
heart from flesh

layered deep’s this brutal theft

discarded, used
entombing mesh

a crevasse wide forms the cleft

Disheveled
stricken
blackened
ruined
corroded, tainting
you, you

Bludgeoned
sickened
castrated
crude
immolated, sating
you, you

Dancing on this living tomb
you,
stomping steps
and scuffing heels
you,
dancing, singing
this cruelest fugue
dancing, belting
those songs
I wrote for you

This
this is
and never was
this
this is
a song of love
this
this is a song

for the dead
…and ugly too



2 comments:

  1. wicked awesome man...they, we....need songs to help us rise from where we have allowed ourselves to be put, or put ourselves....

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  2. Quite the lyrical turn at you bay, as you surely have your say and like the spin at the end and the message it tends to send.

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