They say,  when the wicked rule the earth will mourn

I heard that a time or two

They put you in charge of watching me
But who is watching you

Like a judge, the fate of so many waits in your hands

The utensil in your arsenal are daggers to those around

Poisonous arrows in the body's that are found
    
Mercenaries with degrees.
Your spilling the beans

Friends secrets are the next  prostitution ring

Bankrupt in morals your cruelty never ends

Cold and calculating  to gain the upper hand

Do you expect us to treat you like Caesar

Because you wiled the power

Treat you with false respect , throw you lot's of flowers

I will say this again with no respect due

They put you in charge of watching me
But who is watching you

♪☺☻☺♪

Free verse was captured,
confined to a cell
by readers unraptured
in modernist hell.

And there he did languish
while chained to the wall
and desperate in anguish
gave forth a last call:

“Listen and read me—
my muse is the best!
Applaud and then feed me,
your starving guest !

Don’t fall for that beat…
Please ignore their old line.
I’m here. I’m effete.
I’m a modern divine…

I like it in prison
No, really — I’m free!”
(But his lock was awaiting
Your Readership’s key.

For the moderns all lie,
as your readership knows;
Modern poets don’t die—
they just decompose.)

I am constraint
In a constraint body
I move from thought to thought
race  between a permanent
solitude
I hear a screaming voice
and it´s my own
She´s screaming out my own
deepest   secrets
Who  did I tell my  shame?
If not you
You keep me, in a confinement
locked in among my frustrated fears
morbidly amused by their strenght
I  stay in here.
Where else  would I go
If  not   back to you.

Gray ash fell to scorched landscape
like dying moths
only scattered shells remain
of once noble statues
monuments of steel
fragmented against a burning sky
the face of apocalypse
grimaced an unwavering defiance
wings of angels
sent burning air snaking, swirling
as they descended
collecting the souls worthy of salvation
worthy of another life
in another time

looking back through time shaved eyes
I am blessed by these corridors of memory
otherwise hollow
should you not be present
epic torture of a miniscule life
only room for so many kings
return to me on the power of thought
fleeting though it was
it was
I lose myself in the open valley
and rolling hills
on this daybreak drive
and I am there
with you in those precious days
when our love burned
through the boundaries
of time

You've reached your pinnacle, Roy
here in the rain
your tears lost
the prodigal son
will leave his maker
and meet no-one in the after
Rebel in your time
replicated emotion
but emotion just the same
perhaps the most human application
was one unintended
that thought is pure
in death

The hills burn
Smokey cloud
Over the valley
Wind whipping up
Sparks of misty droplets
Through the windows
Of the house next door

Shadows genuflect
On the asphalt before
The streetlight
Thick foliage shrugs
Its burly shoulders

Smells of wet
Sage on the mountain

Gently the spring
Has closed the
Throat of thunder

I close my eyes
But no lightning makes
Its traces behind my lids

Summer waits...


SoulSurvivor
(C) 4/7/2016