I do this with great trepidation

[furyk]

Here's a poem (somewhat dark) that I wrote for a poetry workshop. Note, this does not make my journal like every other lame Livejournal that posts goth poetry, I swear! It could still use some work, but I'm pretty proud of it.

The Last Garden

An untended garden grows out of control.
Vines and weeds weave against the copper stained brick.
The flowers bloom in an invisible symphony.
This symphony plays without a rhythm in its cacophony of silence.
The soil is stained with April’s cruelty.
The air is heavy with its yellow panting.

An untended garden sweeps across the ground.
Virus like, it consumes all around it like a flamethrower spewing rainbows.
Tangled roots cross and crash like vultures fighting over roadkill.
The sky is turned dark by browns and greens.
The earth is tossed aside like beheaded daisies.
This fearless growth, laughing off unsaid threats.

An untended garden reaches around to touch itself.
Virtually this garden covers the whole earth.
The oceans have been sucked dry.
The ground is a madman’s weave.
This garden has devoured mortars, burned cities, and poisoned streams.
The untended garden that grows on the graves of men.