(no subject)

Mar 14, 2006 18:00

black birds fly circles around these fields
and at dusk they descend upon red dripping trees
their presence, reflecting a dark history
of rusty tipped pitchforks and democracy

oh but out of these grasses a new type of soldier
is picking up silver coins
placed in the vision of everyone fallen
and the faithful forgotten.
They are slender, they're tall.
They are covered in autumn and
their voices speak of nothing but the comforting words
heard on the edges of drawn-out summer days
in a city ruined by shade
and focused on nothing but getting paid.
What else do these mazes of material invoke
but a depression that can make any man
crave
everything but what he actually needs
to feel fully alive.
So, indulge in these lies
and in the lonely dark fields your body will be tried
and there will come a night
when you will feel the slender soldier's shadow
darker than your absence of sight.
His blue jeans, torn, and his body, tired
he'll pull the nickles from your eyes
so that once the crows land
you will see for the first time and
be able to finally rise.
Previous post Next post
Up