A Crowd Screaming In My Head

23 01 2018

Hallidd's Weblog

The End of Flowers

TRANCE

the sticking stuff

is bankrupt / the churchs

have been fleec’d / their pockets

turned out / two old men

are drunk in the alley

perhaps

it is eliot and marx weeping / like bulbs

of an hour glass

theresacrowdscreaminginmyheadamob

ofspiesdroolingovermybooks

there is no fusion of elements / we are

not units but systems / our poetry is

like digestion / we are meshed

in the veil of maya / falling through

the eternal yawn / devoured by

time / we seek some break from this lease

in our head

whentheresnothinglefttohopeforitisthenthatwe

willbegintoconsumeourselves

the dead

do not rise / the living

do not age

they are

mollested by terror / we lust for

the golden age , fools’ gold / we whimper like

old dogs for some gesture / we seek applause

on an empty stage

in an empty hall

with empty words

iveacquiredatasteformyselfitbeganwithmy

fingernailsandendedwithmyheart

…………………..

This is the end…

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