I build this edge of night against sharp blades of white static, stoic and bleeding death.

New Orleans 4:38 am

The serpent sits vexed upon the moon as I fight against the raging echoes of mind. The hour hides an evil grin as the dawn smiles down upon doubt.

These streets glow obsidian and I remember slowly that all of the musicians have gone.

Streets open to gehenom.

Gris gris beads and breath beneath the gutters.

The weight of crime and sorrow swirl.

A vortex.

Sparks from streetcars sting the bare legs of lost children.

Sparrows build their nests in streetlights.

White horses race into the gulf with black feathered plumes.

A dark symphony echoes the cemetery walls and I am going blind.

The city.

She is a hurricane harlot overdosing on fentanyl

and lies.

Even the dead have deserted her.

Now a vacuum of time and sorrow.

My sensitive prince,

With your disgust and contempt

For humanity

In general

And for betraying women like

Your mother

Specifically

You want me out of your sight

Not just for a time

But for all time

So go ahead

Cruelly dash me against

The rocky crags of your words

And yes, I will go

Though I do not intend

To drown

On account of you

**Inspired by Shakespeare's "Hamlet", of course**

Get the eyes right

the glint

expression

that’s the key

let

the shadow and light

fight

in and out

work it

while still pliable

willing

but

in the end

it only matters

that you

get the eyes right.

she is a mystery, the moon,

hidden behind her silver curtains

an elusive silhoutte

against the inky black sky

she dances unseen,

sings unheard,

whispers in secrets

only the tides can understand

That strange pool

the little blot.

That which follows the end

of startled thought !

I've seen around

the neighborhoods,

with languid trail,

laying down,

as boot

mark

on the corner

of sidewalks ;

Bowing

down--

To the left

and checking now ?

I see whole

new worlds

reflected

in after thoughts :

I came and saw but looked away,

so present were the ghosts today.

Though eloquent the words they spoke,

their fetid breath near made me choke.

Deep echoes from the years bygone

have not left off, drone on and on.

So vivid, delicate the lace,

beneath your almost living face.

Our shivaree has never muted,

love intact has scarce transmuted.

Lunched we on this lawn that day

before you left, to my dismay.

Why must contagion make its call

like clockwork sounding in the hall?

Unnerving tolling; oh, the knell

announces death, that grisly bell.

My love was torn, then laid to rest.

My cries in vain paled. Yet I jest

and mock the mockingbird that sings

though never pleasure to me brings.

The Spanish moss, so smoky there

seems choking, sucking without care.

But no, it’s grace-full, a bland scene,

devoid of diabolic scheme.

As heedless, wholly unintended,

virus fully had amended

plans we laid and since repealed;

bastard microbe now revealed.

Excuse me, to the side I list,

quite apathetic to all this.

It’s just, I’ve seen this play before.

Forgive me, ere I close the door

again.

Oh the songs of the road

Through verse and chorus, stories get told

When you roam just like a rambler

Always winning, just like a gambler

The memories take me on the road again

Sometimes I'm running against the wind

While country roads may take me home

To the place I don't belong

Insisting the world keeps turning our way

Hold on cause life is a highway

As we ride, guess time will tell

Freeway of love or highway to hell

Just as free as we’ll ever be

oo many places I've got to see

This free bird you cannot change

There I go, now turn the page

(as published at the Society of Classical Poets website, Jan 2023)

Upon the rushing river’s bank I stand,

deep water, ever flowing as it goes.

The turbulence of my life it reflects

as if my mortal pain, it truly knows.

I close my eyes while cruel heartache builds

and boils. It swirls and churns from deep within,

akin to eddies in the river’s course,

all ever flowing seaward as they spin.

A lifetime lived within each second’s tick,

my heart’s emotions ever flowing strong

form rapids, waterfalls, and twisting turns,

which carve deep channels as they sing love’s song.

Though time often appears to stand quite still,

it’s always ever flowing, moving fast;

toward blank tomorrows and the great unknown,

each day it takes us further from the past.

Through waves of dappled light and shadows dark

we chart the river’s course each day anew,

as yearning, ever flowing, on we roll,

to seek the distant rest of oceans, blue.

Before us lies the fear of change and loss—

deep love becomes deep grief when torn apart.

Time’s ever flowing nature is our bane,

yet passing time can mend a broken heart.

My life’s become the river’s equal now,

surviving ever flowing pain and grief

while drawing strength from pools of love and faith,

I cherish moments calm, however brief.

-----------------------

© 2023 dustygrein

Tell me Atlas,

What is heavier

The world

Or my wretched soul?

-Aks

Laughing at my maddened heart

As it runs in the streets like a dervish

Searching for you

For it had never known what yearning felt like

Until it touched your heart.

-I yearn for your presence