poetomachia

it is so easy to imagine hell
the world is hungry, and nothing goes well
angels trumpet, the devil rings a bell
i didn’t have far to fall when i fell

Forgive
Be kind
Be nice
Rewind

are we in a scrape or just ashamed?
the scent of you, your perfume and something unspoken
the quiet electricity of your presence
is it a tension, a threat or a promise
we’ve laid the groundwork for you and me
it is something, so quiet you can taste
to be held, treasured and certainly faced.

hateful beneath the darkened sky
i’m shattered as the uncovered i
my aftertaste, the sour shout at the back
of the throat, dispeptic heartburn

the burning has only begun
will the body wracked reveal
too late to leave my verse unsung
anything like a soul undead and real

our massive struggle to understand
our endless wait to be understood
our tongue tied attempts to share
our hollow self-serving effort to be good