The writings of Oddpoet

Slither­ing up on high tide
Ser­pents
Intent on find­ing land.

They breach the shore
To find the air
Less tol­er­a­ble
Than the sea.

But
They breathe!
Just the same…

They breathe just the same.

See?
I had the land­scape
Laid out before me
Com­plete with hills,
Dales, and marine life sur­fac­ing
But all the scenery choked
On sui­ci­dal blood.

They spit!
They gasped!
They hov­ered over the dead body
Like flies seek­ing to lay eggs.

But they moved on.

Each day
The decay wors­ens
Until ash no longer attracts
The sense of smell.

Visions vio­late real­ity.
Nuclear fis­sion sub­tracts the loss
Of human vital­ity
And all that is left
Is a bruised and beaten corpse…
Dead on scene.
Dead: end scene.

Nobody bleeds for the dancer.
You got to bleed for the dancer… RJD
But ser­pents sur­face
Life changes every­thing
The tide comes and wanes
And all that remains
Are heaven’s chains wrapped tightly
Around only what you thought.

And what you thought
Was true
Surfs the end­less wave of lies.

I lived and loved accord­ing to the rules.
I lived for one
Loved for one
And fell out of place.

There is no advice to be given.
But I’ll lie dead on the rocks any­way
Bit­ten
And released via venom.

©Jen2010 7–30

This entry was posted on Friday, July 30th, 2010 at 11:09 pm and is filed under Para Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.