“The Black Symphony’s Toccata”
The whole world is watching the symphony
The song is one of great vitality
Horns blare the screams frim the back
‘Run faster’
Drums on the dirt louder and stronger
And I runThe conductor’s wand gleams silver in the light
A red flare as he conducts the trio
Strings sing shrill melodies with winds fighting for glory
‘Heart will be a bleeding blossom’
The march is fading back to the beginning
Why are we running?The parades fall slowly
Until only violas smoke under the spotlight
With traitors, composers
Watching as the conductor’s sharp baton swings my reckoning
And the strings freeze
Letting the scream hang on the air
Tag Archives: death
.Werewolf at a Funeral.
.Werewolf at a Funeral.
There sits the werewolf at the funeral
Sixteen-dollar haircut, adorning shined coats
Teeth sharp, gleaming peaks a sore thumb among the damsels
Whom the man in the ivory box had known like nefarious drugs
The wolf’s wife being his most deadly addictionAnd the preacher goes on
As white teeth carve a white crescent moon
Through a full-fanged smile
Note: My absence is due to the lack of a working computer. I have not given up on In Cities. Expect a few more short snippets soon.
Death-Dressed: A Four Line Poem
Stitch me into death
Bind me with life
If I’m repulsed in life
Please adorn me with death
In Cities 