The Dance That Spins
By mark_yelland-brown
- 162 reads
And so bitter is the taste
Of this persuasion that I can
Almost test the will of those
In greener fields who long
For steeper climes to the sound
Of deeper meanings and colder sounds
What cannot be felt
Is not changed from desiring
And all the time
We wait in silent reasoning and compelled
Thoughts.
Watch the swimmer dive
Into the realms of forgiven flotsam
Flight is unhurried but not chosen
I wish you could feel
But soldier on and tempt the rotten barrel
Field questions from innocent givers
And stumble in the dark of promises kept
But not always when flying
Shoulder to broken shoulder.
Deep calls unto deep
In the shallow breaths that guard the
Gate of our unsteady footfalls
While away anything that claims old reckonings
If you should see them
Wait until they’re close enough
Here to feel the scent.
Wait until the message of tomorrow
Is gleaned from broken river’s footfalls
Cleanse yourself in the flames
Of broken desire, shadow boxing
Into delirium and dystopia
Love's broken bottle is
Green glass and home
Is a cardboard box
Of promises and shanty town margins.
Drink from the wells of forgetting
All is revealed under the hospice
And choir gate
Fashion your own deity with the metal
From past hurting
Seething heat collapses in on
Itself and disturbs all who needed cover
Feint and dive
Stay and do not be quite
As tender as tomorrow's trials
Would have you bleed.
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