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Open Poetry #36
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blood soaked aging driftwood
| Open Poetry #36 |
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blood soaked aging driftwood |
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LeeJ Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296
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like a stranger’s frozen mirror with “humanity” put on ice looking over empty tables of middle aged maiden names with stokes of fire emanating an aura of power from what is seen…and not felt nor even known you cannot give what you’ve never known deep winter eves prevail their longest nights slung across the shoulders of loneliness & fragmented recollections torrent questions falling over them, again and again as wolves salivate ingesting a temporary fix making ready to parade freshly fueled by stiff dancing old manboys with faces of blemished thoughts and stolen moments i’m puzzled by their needs? to painful to contemplate the compromise which sighs shaking it’s head...hard with signs over them reading “Senses dimmed to all” and at that moment, I wish a voice screamed... “I’m not going in there!” shades of daggers breathe over their furrowed brows not strong enough to go it alone focusing on smiling promises & lies as the devil sells one pt. of poisen to disquise an entire lake of truth only looking for shelter, rest and a place to stay for the night with lines a mile high the inns they enter, are very small windows so fogged over they ache a heavy pang of mist unable to hear glaring wounds turning clocks a few hours ahead just to keep the alarms calm and quiet soaked with the blood of physical friends under sheets of cowards filled with excuse for the now gone warm glow on skin their bold intent, boasting rooms where barmaids enter alone flirting with breasts of foolish desires promising generous tips teasing open lips and mouths which speak silent tears voices in the darkness mopping up floors of burned flesh and of this stench, they never ask “who has done this?” they know they are the ones unfortunately companionship leaves again and again...tipping a hat of no regret with an inauditable sigh wondering where it will go next? To any newcomer trudging through the door Of these small inns that kills all senses Gives a whole new meaning to the song "Hotel California" with best regards to Scott...with whom, during a conversation on this subject, he helped to inspire the poem...thanks hun, for being not only a great man, but a good one at that!!!!! [This message has been edited by LeeJ (07-14-2005 12:58 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2005 Lee J. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
LeeJ, A large breakfast but I'll still be hungry for lunch. Good morning sweet. |
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stevebrklynnyc Member
since 2004-01-04
Posts 292GA, Camden |
I love the reference to the Eagles at the end, however, the line "you cannot give what you’ve never known", completley makes me wonder about my past, thanks for a good read. Steve. |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
Interesting...James |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
quote: I'm not either! Humming that Eagles tune now.... |
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
Can I just say, WOW?! |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Yes, Jo. You can... I do so, quite often!   |
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ice Member Elite
since 2003-05-17
Posts 3404Pennsylvania |
Lee A singles bar for middle-agers? Or truly, the "Hotel California"? "freshly fueled by stiff dancing of old manboys with faces of blemished thoughts of only stolen moments" "Some dance to remember Some dance to forget " * ... companionship leaves again and again...tipping a hat of no regret with an inauditable sigh "wondering where it will go next?" Perhaps it can never leave... "Relax said the nightman We are programmed to receive You can check out any time you like But you can never leave" Excellent poetry as always, Lee Like Seymour, I ate this poem for breakfast, and now I am literally sate....  ----------------ice/ford ><> |
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