Hey di da lally
Asters frown and reach the ground
Politicians can't pay their bills
Mowing's done, the grass is dry
Seasons change and old men lie
Hey di da lally
Where did you put my tools
Planting the plum make me a fool
Cool weather is warm again
Blood flows out of wrinkled sacks
Hey di da lally
Leaves come down and then some more
Boxes topped with glass are coming
Charcoal might melt the snow away
In the hospital they look to plug the gaps
Hey di da lally
Thanks be given round about
Pruning fruit trees is almost here
No one knows if the man will die
Or dance away the next day
Hey di da lally
Rook Darkpoet
This is my raw poetry for an adventurous audience.
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Melancholy
Dancing with a girl named Melancholy
She has a smile on her face
But the sadness never leaves her eyes
She knows every dance from the last hundred years
Every step caries all the pain from each of those years
And she won't stop when her own feet hurt
I ask, but she won't disengage even when
My body burns and burns and burns
'Til nothing is left but an ache in my soul
And my face matches hers, smile for smile
Eye for eye
Still we dance, always touching
But never together
She has a smile on her face
But the sadness never leaves her eyes
She knows every dance from the last hundred years
Every step caries all the pain from each of those years
And she won't stop when her own feet hurt
I ask, but she won't disengage even when
My body burns and burns and burns
'Til nothing is left but an ache in my soul
And my face matches hers, smile for smile
Eye for eye
Still we dance, always touching
But never together
Twelve Soldiers
I'm an old solder who has lost his friends
Tired and alone I sit, refusing to follow
Their path into woe
Each one left in turn, with a faint smile
And a final overwhelming sigh
I'm an old Soldier guarding the banes of his lost friends
Twelve swords that used to be bright and true
Now sitting covered with rust
And cursed by twelve tiered men
Who had no better friend to stay their hands
Tired and alone I sit, refusing to follow
Their path into woe
Each one left in turn, with a faint smile
And a final overwhelming sigh
I'm an old Soldier guarding the banes of his lost friends
Twelve swords that used to be bright and true
Now sitting covered with rust
And cursed by twelve tiered men
Who had no better friend to stay their hands
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
No One at His Back
A middle age man sits
in a crowded restaurant
His back to the wall
his eyes looking
For a restful spot
away from the chaos
Memories of sitting behind
a wall on guard
With no one at his back
or to the right and left
Curiously exposed he knows
he is more sacrifice
Than protection
The increase of noise brings
him back to the present
And forces his eyes
toward the door
Too much, he must escape
bidding curt farewells
He rushes through a maze
to the door
Outside he relaxes
just a bit
But his eyes still roam
looking for threat
His back still itches
waiting for an attack
That will never come
Florescent Black Plastic
I look through thick panes
At the world, who not noticing
The bulky frames and mullions
Or florescent black plastic guarantied
To prevent pregnancy and sexual assault
But oddly, no one seems to notice
The glaring from my face
I remove the frames and panes
Turning the world to fuzzy softness
To squint at what is now
Just a pair of blocky, black glasses
And put them on again
To see
That no one really cares
But me
At the world, who not noticing
The bulky frames and mullions
Or florescent black plastic guarantied
To prevent pregnancy and sexual assault
But oddly, no one seems to notice
The glaring from my face
I remove the frames and panes
Turning the world to fuzzy softness
To squint at what is now
Just a pair of blocky, black glasses
And put them on again
To see
That no one really cares
But me
We are Only
The hardest distance across the line
Comes from the ancient test of dignity
Versus honesty with contempt
For the lies we tell ourselves
Regarding who we are and the
Values we disregard so that
We can place ourselves as being
Better than the rest of the world
As we attempt to hold them down
With self righteousness that we are only
'Doing it for their own good'
Comes from the ancient test of dignity
Versus honesty with contempt
For the lies we tell ourselves
Regarding who we are and the
Values we disregard so that
We can place ourselves as being
Better than the rest of the world
As we attempt to hold them down
With self righteousness that we are only
'Doing it for their own good'
Muse's Angel
The angel stood over my bed
Curly ebony hair cascading over her shoulders
Her eyes glassy bludgeons
And with her lips she moulded fire
'You are to do as you are bidden'
Her voice rang through my head
Though only a wisp of flame passed her lips
'The Muse has sent me
She will not deal so lightly again'
The angel vanished and left me with blindness
From the radiance protecting me from her fire
I tripped out of bed and crawled
Until I found a table with paper and pen
And I scribbled, blind:
To whom I must serve
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