Skip to main content

Tomorrow

A thousand miles away from you 
To the tomorrow, comes an ardent blood with new face
Where heart aches for lovers and for friends,
And woeful grace
Of lustful astrayed heads.

 Tomorrow in the galiot of afflicts
Sabotaging Lord's obsolete verdicts 
Riving seraphic appends 
And waylaying them to the deads.

 Tomorrow comes the sun, colour and flush
And anguish. Now let the ale wash 
Out of the evening, away from light
Lingering the days to murk from bright
Freezing the warm streams 
And debauch our rising dreams.

 Tomorrow man will 
Grabble to harm the flesh of his true mother
Abandoning his sons with bother.

 Today I found a little shell of oyster
Closed and dead 
With no pearl in its bed.

 I witnessed the ages passing 
And declared the era to end
In a round rot velvet case.
Labels:

Comments

  1. Unknown9 May 2017 at 14:19

    The wretched kind we are, even in these poetic lines it's so difficult to estimate the cost tomorrow is paying for today. Couldn't feel more anguished. Would love to see more something like this.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Wine From The Cask

A wish fluttered in my heart, A desire soon to be fulfilled.  There's a grace she carries in her beauty,  They belong in the heart, in the superior guild.    I look into her heart,  The beauty I read gave me realization; A fine lady, with warmth and good at the core,  Covering no picture of physical description.    Her beauty taught me what eyes are, And the words that create a poem; The story is engraved and made immortal,  Unfurling untold takes in an exquisite rhythm.    Unwittingly intoxicating,  Words pour out like wine from a wooden cask.  Drunk on stories and high on poems,  I fall on her lap with a million stars to dusk.    Leaking and dropping,  It fell on me, feeding me peaceful sleep.  I drowned, died, and was resurrected; I was dragged to a side unfathomably deep.    Bright like a crowns smile,  The charm turned my world around.  In it, grey sky spoke of her fair fac...
Post a Comment
Read more

Flur Through The Blur

She is the skipper at the porch with a storm of perfume, Husky are her eyes as the Correa dusky, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her hairs dark as the queen of the night. Then spake to an old sailor, "Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And tonight its blur, we see! I pray thee, put into a port, For I fear a hurricane." Sharper and deafening blew the wind, Gales from the northeast, The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like a cleanser. Down came the storm, The vessel in her strength; It didn't shudder her, unlike a frighted steed, She just wrapped the storm in her sea man's coat. She lashed the helm, all stiff and strong, With all face turned to the skies, The lantern cutting through the blurry sky, And she fixed the storm with her glassy eyes.
Post a Comment
Read more

To The Fossil

Time could carry weight to the cemetery, To the graves full of lonely blistery bones, To the soil of sinking skin and thirsty blood, To the blathering heart hitting through the tunnel.  If death is charitable and there it is early,  We will conk to earth some fragrant night, Taking these lanes to be mossbacked to a fossil, And shall be happy for the dead reality. If we lose ourselves tonight, we will be dead inside; If we build the hate in mind, we will be extinct from kind; If we carry the grudge in heart, we will be a roiled hearth; If we kill ourselves behind, we will be the lost fossil in the wild.
Post a Comment
Read more