Monster birds

The sun shines once in a while,
but the world around those spots
- Has gone silent,
and the birds that whistle seem to be monsters
Drawn in to this dimension by the unknown,
Which is magnificent, until we step over the line
And wake up dead.
Now we are monsters with giant crosses
Around our necks,
and everything between the legs is gone;
That's how God sees us - as holy people,
While we're no longer people, no longer children,
Just strange branches forming forests,
where we want to drown,
But the ponds accept no religion.

Everyone is dead - I step outside and knock on all doors
- No one answers, all the lights are off, all gates open;
There's no one left to pray or murder -
there's no difference between the two,
as there never was.
The goats, the spiders, the old people
and their diseases are gone.
The young, the smart, the scientists,
the learned - even the learned! don't answer.
Like in the old Jerusalem, there're no witches
to cast a spell, but there are matches!

The monster has bitten off my hills and my little toe,
my back has no flesh, only blood vessels
and scratched bones;
So I run naked, burning the cross,
my neck catching flames and bleeding,
like my nose did for the past hour;
And the music is dead too,
It doesn't swim back to me, like it did to Anne,
it doesn't hum lalala and leave me speachless.
Only the birds still whistle like monsters,
While we wake up dead - we're no longer people
and no longer children..

Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 762 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2008-04-30 at 14:43

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A dark and thoughtful read, I much enjoyed, thank you

Elle x