Tag Archives: grave
Undead poetry
whispers of poems in every generation
long forgotten
bodies may decay and become rotten
But the words hang in the cold fresh autumnal air.
The undead poet from their grave may save
humanity still
it’s a battle of wills
selling poetry at bookshop tills.
softness and grace left in memories of one’s who knew them the most
although it’s his words live on like ghosts
a gnarled wizard staff
summons the poets craft
summoning words and stanzas
and questions rhymes and answers
Pulling them from sleepy faded ink
to relive times and make us think…
Poetree
We need to question the society we take for granted
the seeds you planted
will come back to grow on your grave.
Love will always save.
The trees you planted a welcome reminder
of playing a life that’s a blinder
or a poison tree that bears fruit to poison this generation and the next
to be written and recorded in text.
The road
The road we are heading down
is a totalitarian nightmare
homeless being less well treated than a stray dog
polluted rivers and dreams smog covers the sky
as we are born into slavery and die
no accountability from our governments
the poor and disabled laments
as we fall into the garbage of the present tense
we are human don’t you know we were all born this way
the love in hearts falling through the hour glass
cast in the depths of hell
the rich get richer we are no deeper than the graves
we fall into
the sins of our generations will be remembered
as our bodies our broken and dismembered
for capital gain
trespassing on the lands of shame
we are guilt ridden if we don’t fight back
we might as well draw back
the smoke from a crack pipe
and die masking our pain
we are human we are all born with a brain
and a soul
but money has us under the Kosh
and we are squashed.
My Poltergeist wife
My poltergeist wife
In the whisperer of the nights breeze
in the murmur of words she softly said
I knew she wasn’t really dead
in the movement of the trees outside, with their leaves
the way the photo album opened with ease
the noise of your footsteps chased me to bed
dreams of you linger in my head
I am left longing for you to tease
things I swear move on their own
sometimes i can hear the rattling of plates
I am never ever left alone
I am the man who sits and waits
hearing the noise of the television drone
I hear your voice it communicates.