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Click hereBuried my cactus-thorn pricked heart
beneath desert's desolate dust,
tucked away my shredded soul
A-loss,
Alone,
Adrift
Inky creosote sap
drips-drips from barbed branches,
an acrid, oily metronome
Each drop exploding onto
gritty ground pew
A scabbed-heart genuflect,
prayer lofted
silent-skyward,
Begging the cloud rafters to
rain-bleed mercy upon me
We read like a book,
Every
Single
Page
Tattered
Telling
Torn
We blazed flash-bang bright,
shimmering,
incandescent,
transcendent,
A once-tattooed calligraphy
curving,
revealing,
punctuating our bodies
in ghostly negative,
Leaving sharded, shattered remnants
of disintegration
Days dull into evening's gloaming
obscured,
beclouded,
Whispered vespers wafted over
scorched desolation,
Caustic, nocent lessons
leach their tainted ooze
upon love's skeletal debris
I need absolution
I need a revelation
I need penance
I need release
Humbled,
hollowed,
hardened,
Spent soul scrabbling over
unsparing, unforgiving truths,
Angels tread--tiptoe-tentative, fragile-fearful--upon
this riotous, ruinous scene
Our final kiss,
lips colliding in
silver-threaded outline,
calamitous wreckage,
copper-cast,
a nebulous
murky daguerreotype
Tears, disallowed
Choke back bitter salt
Rub it in my heart-wound
Rend my dress
Sins committed,
bridges burnt,
filmy dead ash a-flutter,
swirling,
settling,
Love's extinguished sediment
Damned love.
Sacred love.
Whoa! And I thought the zombie apocalypse in the last of us was bleak! I love this nuclear bomb of a poem.
Always enjoy your work, and this poem is no exception. Such evocative imagery and interesting interplay between the divine and corporeal. I particularly liked "an acrid, oily metronome". Thanks for sharing your talent.
This is the first poem I clicked after joining the site. Wow, I am impressed! I love nature, and to see it so to the forefront of your poem is amazing! Your poem tells that aching sadness of having "messed up", and living with the consequence. Thank you for sharing---I really liked your poem!
At the sacred altar within the desert’s chapel,
Seeking sanctified healing
Perhaps baptism and rebirth;
Or simply, empathy.
Love lives here,
To love is to be human.
Your whip-smart command of the English language, selection of lesser used vocabulary, stylized punctuation, pace, and stacked thematic, is all mostly wasted here, Bliss. Please obtain thee a publisher, and grace poetry lovers with a collection of your work. We await. Darkly beautiful, sensual, and suffering. "Rend my dress", indeed, darling writer.
Oh, this is sad, maybe the sediment becomes the soil of simething new to grow?