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Monday, December 19, 2011

A Poem in Blank Verse and Iambic Tetrameter (In Case You Were Wondering)

Black holes form like stars in the air
The world spotted with unsightly
Unholy leprous blemishes
Drains away like cold bathwater
Heaven crashes through the glass clouds
And falls into oblivion

Monks chant whispered praises of God
The wealthy sink their marble teeth
Into the flesh of the lesser
Poets howl at the silent moon
Teachers teach and the singers sing
But at night all are wounded beasts

Raped by the deafening echoes
That deflect off the atmosphere
We wounded animals quiver
Whining against the icy ground
Begging—screaming for our mothers
Like orphans who dream of their past

The end is near—fresh on our breaths
We cling onto a sinking ship
Hurtling towards the cursed black sea
That flows around our island home
Monstrous eternity looms
Over we maggots of dust

One cannot hold onto moments
They dart away like beams of light
And life, sweet life, is fragile as
The tiny spine of a dead leaf
Fleeting, like the fall of rain drops
Destined to hit the rigid ground

So as our existence runs thin
We are dying sailors searching
With red eyes for some sign of land
Searching oh searching for some land
Searching, God help us, for some land
Searching, dear God, searching for land


Michelle said...

It's a good poem, really good, I was feeling ya, but what I really love is the title. (totally something I would say.)