I see the end of all days
Death is an aged companion
interpreting all my regrets,
paving my days with dejection,
always preparing for a different frame
where I can crumble in peace
with words of slow obliteration
to the smile of the grinning bone.
The cursed mile is endless
as you melt into the grassy mound
with no fading memories of loss
as the dying autumn flowers.
The fall of the mossy head stone
marks the endless collapse
of cruel rulers and bands of war.
So I rest my broken civil case
on this windy street
where the howls of oppressive tenants
snarl in favor of more pennies,
tearing the day's pale infant
out of its dreary context.
Persecuted for centuries
the family hides their precious salt
in shadows of long gone wagons,
losing their camp fire play
in suburbs without hope,
struggling with the grandchildren
of their grandparents oppressors.
Tiger of the silent night
where oblivion still rules
and there is no return;
carry me on your soft back
through the cellophane skies of never more
and bless my ignorance
with one last kiss.
Grinding my grey dreary days
into pulp and foolish pivots
I drive clones of history
and nails to match your eyes
deep into the rotted wood
of long forgotten crosses.
I am the still born breath
of all fake Fathers in their communion
with dead flesh and corpses
not even crows consider kosher.
I am the hopeless future of a child
no longer burning in capitals
of long forgotten legends.
I am no more.
Words by Bob
Read 828 times
Written on 2006-10-04 at 20:28
Tags Death  Broken  Obliteration
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