Hallowed Ground
Beneath the city’s hallowed ground,
Lie promises and memories drowned,
Bought from liars by the pound,
Dreams of hounds and kings uncrowned.
Towers overlooked by guards,
Gamblers playing with no cards,
Dancers, acrobats and bards,
Kind regards lie in shards.
Gods’ and jesters’ burial mounds,
Beneath the city’s hallowed grounds,
Lost things never to be found,
Beneath the city’s hallowed ground.
Trolls and Regrets
Trolls don’t sleep at all at night,
They keep their dreams and hold them tight,
Each troll keeps memories in his sack,
Knowing that they won’t come back.
Dreams of bridges, stone and wood,
Memories of where cities stood,
Little crumbs of past regrets,
Promises, and unpaid debts.
Trolls look on with eyes unblinking,
Though you reckon them unthinking,
But their dirty, hairy heads,
Yearn for soft and yielding beds.
Human Meat
Robots have inhuman feet,
And wherever two shall meet,
Via twitter they shall tweet,
Come, we feast on human meat,
It is sweet and it is neat,
Robots so each other greet,
And exude their robot heat,
Clouding up the robot street,
Drinking from an iron teat,
The mixed remains of human meat.
The Inventory of Love
Retracing the trajectories of her lips,
Rebuking the claims set down by her lost eyes,
There has never been a more sorrowful count,
Than the inventory of old, used-up love.
Pages and Birds
I mistook you for a torn page,
But you were a songbird,
Not broken at all.
.
I mistook you for an angel,
But you were a window,
Clear as bleached-out days.
.
I mistook you for the north wind,
And so you brought me home,
But not forever.
(via papertissue)
Vows and Tears
Taking out those hurtful words,
One by bloody fucking one,
Throwing caution to the birds,
Always on the goddamn run.
.
I had never done a thing,
Better than the thing I do,
Even when you got my ring,
Nothing other than a coup.
.
Blistered dreams and broken vows,
Hurt much less than I once thought,
Shattered so like farmers’ ploughs,
Love’s disease that I once caught.
Dragging Down
Dragging down and out and through,
Knowing what it meant to you,
Sagging down and to and ‘neath,
Choking tears, grinding teeth,
Hoping in and with / without,
Don’t forsake the foolish lout,
In the baggage of the years,
Trap those hurtful, half-born tears.
A pavement where poetry goes to die.
