There are days when we get lost
Into windows of another dream
– A fraction of the cost
For a long line of never-did-try,
Yet even on the eve
Our bellies ache with unease.
Though when all is on the mantle,
We catch on, let to run
– Wild beasts become our name;
Visions flash before our eyes;
Wild nights turn into days of blood
Pumping through our passionate veins,
Which leave a strong mark upon
The rivets of our days,
Until, again, we call out
Through each windows we call our names.
Tag: mantle
Fine Wine Dreams (day 1392)
This tap has run dry
Of its fine wine,
Just chips and dip left
On the mantle ledge.
A fire burns elastically,
Transfixing each gaze
Into a myraid of dreams
Slowly edging reality’s edge.
Darkness transcends time
When city streets no longer wind
About fir trees and hemlock,
Mocking life’s cruel new wedge.
A Picture of Enjoyment (day 563)
Sounds of the night circle ’round and around like the flowering budgies that flap on through the night.
I await on the mantle, a picture of enjoyment.
Legs curve and the back bends forward, this is the pose of an elegant dancer. She walks and she hustles and she whispers in madness. She whispers secrets only lovers can handle.
Too late, I whisper, hunching my back and looking deep into the ceiling with elated joy. A fool only knows the answer after the call has been made.
Hope always exists, up here on the mantle. So much excitement and far to little action; the dancers they taunt me, the singers they enchant me.
I await on the mantle, as a picture of enjoyment.