Garrison Poems
Come see my world where the body is found
After the feast of worms is done; come see torn apart
The life and prospects skipping rope in children's heart
The dust drizzles atop the sutured sound
And eyes litany of curtains
And eyes gluttony of mountains
*******
Scuttle dreams of womanhood or manhood
Any child may do for the devil's device
Any slime may carry shame and maggot's vice
Those who die mysteriously are good
Matters not where the blood drops lead
Matters not how the victims bleed
*******
Through the barking night of sad moaning dogs
The battlefront kept a thin tenuous line
I could not spoon the shrapnels from the trembling mind
And the very sheet cringed the vipers' bogs
Into which the curdled blood flowed
Into which the tragic cocks crowed
*******
There are no fences here, except the wall
Of old zincs and shingles around the kind of house
That after childhood is not built again ... house
After house like lichen in the eye, fall
Bringing neither fire nor summer
Bringing neither hope nor terrror.
*******
Think of those who live through it, us not you
The rags swept to the corner of the eye. Bent
To emptiness of fear in the scorned lament
Think that somewhere the muzzle follows you
And will not miss to tax the sun
And will not flee where battle's run
*******
Did you say how did my world come to this
Scratching and gnawing and cold canker of sores
How did it imaged so starkly private yours
It's not our genes but our dreams that's amiss
The churning of the world in dirt
The churning of the heart in hurt
*******
It is not my fault then but ours, and yet
It is my death alone that buys the flowers
And lingers, and lingers on the cloying hours
And who but the living failures regret
That we have no vision in light
That we have no comfort in night.
*******
Cringe me a mass on an abandoned hill
No running water, nor school, nor light, nor plan
To make more than community out of man
Count the dollar until the heart grows still
I'll show you where the error wakes
I'll show you how the honor flakes.
*******
Bones clock bones shivering under the bed
They tried but did not shoot out the moon, you spy
Neither potholes nor potmarks there, just a lie
Trembling too in a drug addicted head
That one fix will be the last now
That one fix and then the false vow.
Copyright © David Smalling | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment