Hey guys. So this poem is rather deep. I hope it provokes some thought. I realize that it's not quite a feel good poem, but somehow, in this broken world, it is.
Claret
The words I wish I had spoken, and the glassy
bay I frequently create in hindsight
will never be. I cannot replace
what is true: the slack-tide of my spirit
siphoning into stagnant pools
somewhere—more like everywhere.
The salivation
of Bleakness drips down on everything, smearing
from memory the vibrancy of life. My tears,
the blood of my soul, hit the ground uncaught.
They die, pearls thrown to pigs, or perhaps
just pigs thrown into the sea.
Who’s throwing anyways? Looks like Jesus
or demons again. Someone who called me Legion
or Peter or both. Imagine what he felt: holy blood,
clogging up those worldly veins.
It’s a wonder that the love of a father
or God would place such a pure spirit in wretch’s skin.
We sealed it alright—nailed him to our death.
3 comments:
Danny, as always-- thanks for sharing. You have the heart of a poet.
Title Suggestions: Vital Fluid, Claret, Lifeblood, Worldly Veins... hmm... I had some other ideas but I forget now
Worldly Veins, Heavenly Strains
Ooh oh heyy... I found out how to leave comments. HA. More related to this post: I like this poem; but you should already know that.
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