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Open Poetry #45
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icebox
Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383
in the shadows

0 posted 2009-09-10 09:11 PM



I still can hear the pipes sing
Amazing Grace
I hear them in my dreams
I hear the screams
every day,
months of cadenced march
out of the open pit mine of souls,
all day long
and through the night
in and out of mind
until my heart ran out of song.

Today bells ring,
performers sing
and everybody's priests
ask gods for treats.

Each name a moment held
in all solemnity
on edge
to slip into eternity;
the pomp and circumstance,
the ceremony's tears and choking
fears that this will mean an end
to the beginning of the years
we mark remembering the dead,
the living dead
whose names all run
together
labels on one giant
blended bleeding soul.

If one more plastic politician
says, ‘Let's roll,'
I think I will be sick.

The dead can sleep,
where is the peace of heart and soul
that could bring quiet to the living?

We mourned a year.
We've buried buttons
and a watch,
a rock,
handfuls of dirt and ash,
a shoe
or two,
some bone fragments,
photographs in empty caskets,
memories in sleepless nights
full of empty arms and empty beds
tears in empty hearts.
It's time to leave the past.

For some
it's time to stalk revenge
cold and crafted with precision
in deserts,
fields and mountains
where we are hated for existing,
where gods are left with questions,
where evil breeds in men.
So, there are no answers
and so, the killings never end.

There is no grief beyond the love
of that which death can steal.
There is no deal to make,
no memorial to shake the horror
of the memories,
the smell
the taste
of human ashes mixed with fuel
melted steel
vaporized concrete
grit that clogged our eyes,
a blessing in disguise;
the shame
of hoping winds would change,
the dream's there every day,
turn back and turn away
run,
no where to go,
who died
when there is nothing left
to hold
but memories of clouds
thick choking terror
floating in air
so full
that vision's lost,
sounds of bodies hitting ground
just beyond the reach of sight
within the sounds,
the claws of fright,
no where to hide.
No where to hide.

©2003, 2005, 2006, 2008, 2009 by icebox
(written September 11, 2002)





© Copyright 2009 icebox - All Rights Reserved
latearrival
Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499
Florida
1 posted 2009-09-11 12:14 PM


Well worth repeating! Thank you. latearrival
N|D|N|C|Lost-Poet
Member
since 2009-07-30
Posts 360
New Orleans
2 posted 2009-09-11 01:20 AM


Quite honestly wonderfully written.


nakdthoughts
Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200
Between the Lines
3 posted 2009-09-11 08:14 AM


"There is no grief beyond the love
of that which death can steal."


M

1slick_lady
Member Ascendant
since 2000-12-22
Posts 6088
standing on a shadow's lace
4 posted 2009-09-11 08:17 AM


shall we never forget
Margherita
Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236
Eternity
5 posted 2009-09-11 10:48 AM


quote:
Today bells ring,
performers sing
and everybody's priests
ask gods for treats.



Incredibly, overwhelmingly intense work, dear Poet.

Love,
Margherita


TinaTrivett
Senior Member
since 2006-07-15
Posts 569

6 posted 2009-09-11 02:26 PM


This is such a moving tribute.
Roniece Dawson-Bruce
Member Ascendant
since 2000-01-29
Posts 5689
Sydney, Australia
7 posted 2009-09-11 03:15 PM


and grief will be long..

wonderful tribute Mr Ice..

Bisous du Paris
RDB

Be kind at heart....for everyone you meet has their own battle to fight.........

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