When gunpowder and match bring life
I want to shoot your heart till it opens up like a wild flower
Sing to you of drunk bawls and constant dribbling
Of saliva of too much sincerity and naivete spraying to the fertile soil till
sprout the tendrils drilling into my mature conscience.
Nitrite and oxygen and other flammable medium seance the dead feelings of survivalist cells wishing to immortalize themselves between your delta of February oratory of the choirs
of seraphs flinging themselves off
your Niagara breath
I still can't listen to my autistic satyr
A tear in space-time gives access to more shared sunrises.
See our fused chemicals oriflamme-ing in the sky of hope
We fight versus a tomorrow of cold rooms and apathetic cats and colored hair
Sure we explode in a bright ball of sparks that eyes wonder at and ponder
We die to ourselves while lighting the world one last time.
YOU ARE READING
The Forge of the Wordsmith
PoetryPoetry and Wordplay, Word craft and World letter, a literary journey in verse and re-verse. Meaning is challenged as words reunite and reconstruct. Saussure reimagined.
