Cold rain falls in the river, flows down to the sea, gets into the skyline, circles endlessly. Same old rain on the wind, same old pain in my soul.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Taboo


Taboo


I cast shadows
over my shoulder
just to watch
where they land

as..

I stretch my arm
across the expanse
of desert’s thought provoke
to touch
the glimmer of the needle

as..

I reach
for the boundaries
of depth
through the sands
of the other side

and..

I long
for beyond
and apart
sewn in stitched
quilts of leathered dreams.

this I do for..

my thoughts
lamp-post my lean
in moth scattered
yellow light
dirtied by the mist
of yesterday’s
fallout.

but I won’t
shoulder up the collar
to the cold chill
of authorities
warning

for I can’t.

tomorrow
is next week’s
dirty laundry
and mine will hang
where you
can see

ragged
in worn
mottled in spent
badged
in wasted honour

because..

someone
must mock
the bleach
that church’s
your hidden wants

let it be me.


~rick