Dig It.

Dec 08, 2010 04:12


                                                                   12/08/2010
                                               Dig It.

Solitaire Heart sits 40’s style in a basement for the antiquated.

Dirty secrets scattered along this fine, rippled edge

Where rugs of no consequence lay bare

Tipping a lonely fedora near where Sunlight used to tint windows sparingly

Once upon a decade.

Sun went down for the count though,

And now days are spent in shadowy confinement

where there ain’t no Angel sounds

no ring bearers

and certainly no amends left to be made.

Lifted upward is a Sapphic curtain,

Still glitters from the heyday of sad Solitaire Heart

Dust has settled on fedora’s faded brim

Memory of footprints imprinted

into the last of the bottom heart boxers

Cobwebbed love & aching loss

Coat the room’s walls;

borderless & toxic,

they are the colors of a scream.

There will be a door opening

And there will be a Clarion Call

(of some sort)

Shaking black shoes out of blank complacency

To rise on up to a hotter, sweatier beat

With a tap and a trumpet

Bound for the glory of a new stain on screamed walls

Stained red like the ink of Sir Solitaire’s veins,

mixing content.

Swirling castrato ups the din!

But the room stays relaxed.

Open doors have yet to creak

and time ain’t jumped the gun.

Those 40’s will have to stead their heels,

Until Sunshine at last is ready to start

his Reverb Revolution.

---S.K.L. (c) 2010

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