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