Saturday, January 15, 2011

"Spinning": a start to a new poem

Irately clawing out of four cement blockades
Teeter forward like archaic graves
Immersed in shrouds that suffocate


Bristly snares pull me under like the tide 
Sourly untouchable, withering stares prod my thin skin


In the flurry of my plunge 
I lunge, remaining untouched 
Swooping into cavernous 


The flat, moist stones strewn 
A veil that squelches sight
As daylight fades to night
I ponder potential plight 


Trembling lightly in the grains
Tornadoes surge like roaring waves
The projectile leaves me languid like a wilting erection


Lethargically I heave dryly
My face as cold as frost
Pale blueness fights its way to the forefront of my flesh


Feebly I seize in the sordid stars
Blackness worms into the holes
Filling the empty spaces of my soul


TBC...

No comments:

Post a Comment