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July 05, 2005
icine poetry contest - entry 2
by SeeleJames
In the evening sun sets,
Shadows come from the west, looming over,
What’s once associated with gloom
Becomes a life of its own.
Ruckus music plays as a sea of
Hands and heads waver like in a violent breeze.
I can’t hear you anymore.
The voices, cheers and music; too loud.
Overpowering the throat standing next to, and behind, me.
Not a ghost dance, but a simple chance
To unleash whatever you have with in.
A demon, a fire, an angel, a specter
All come out in waves, like brigades in a war zone
All marching to the beat of the same drum (machine).
Skin, the forever cement of memory.
The thing once scarred remains that way. The same.
Tattoos and gashes. Burns from ash and embers,
The kind that never rise or fade away, but set deep in the hearth
Burning for ever like a passion or a love.
That kind which never can flicker and die out
The one that never becomes bleached away from sight.
Posted by astor at July 5, 2005 08:07 PM