Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.138.174.90
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
There are skeletons in the wardrobe but they’re home and dry

Looked after properly moth balled and yet unkindly falling apart

Conscience is layered just as are subconscious wishes and fears

Sometimes I play with the bones and take them to the junkyard

They call it recycling but I offer them as they are as good as new

Pennies for thoughts and a pound for forgetting two for the pair


The tip is a maze of rubbish and indiscriminate waste laid to rest

Waiting for an almighty crusher to dispose of false evidence

Because memories can be tricky and biased and fail to disclose

That perfect angle of disharmony revealing anger and pain

As I scoop all sorts of garbage one by one into the oblivious skip

A decomposed cartilage flies straight back into my worried mind 


‘Don’t leave me here for I was the glue and cushioned your blows

Never abandoned you when the road seemed hard and progress was slow’

Vertebrae mingle with screws bolts mesh wire and grinders but

Refuse to go down without fight before reflecting the torn spine

Of a book once loved and caressed and discarded without mercy

Like the knowledge I could pass on from lonely and sleepless nights 


When metacarpals scratch an unwanted toy soldier they moan

‘Carpe diem’ but they feel like beggars next to graveyards of time

Dis-balance reaches its heights when one femur remains in sight

And hopes for increased shell fire or trigger at the bottom of the pile

‘Please God there must be a mercy killer waiting for fresh blood’

But the plea vanishes without echo and the wounds march ahead


A frizzled rope dangles around what once was a neck and survives

Between atlas and axis desperately trying not to become disconnected

Wounds have dried yet injuries linger on but the Barbie Doll nurse

Is too busy attending to make up and camouflage and waiting for Ken

Thus the corpse has to make do with ribbons and medals to bandage

A cascade of emotions and reasons and of confusion and doom


Like a headless combatant I stand near the garbage and almost fall

Into the deep aperture of depression that waits to be nourished

I do not quite know what to do with myself and which way to go

But then keep the skull as I might need it as housing for a vanishing mind

Dig out a heel for good measure in case I decide to rock myself back to sleep

While doomsday prevails I give thanks that my pillow still shelters my soul 


25th October 2019
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required