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Hearts, In a Cold Case Box

Waiting for a thought, an image or something; anything....
To jump start this heart; dead on arrival ? Sounds so familier
As sorting through life's dumpster a rag doll, baby hope; discarded
While time unwinds it's same old songs; composed of dispair her mother
Children themselves seeking dreams beyound these tears; another cold case 
Text in abstract art ? Wearing rose coloured glasses be his conqueror worm; gray
Spectacle requiems mounting summits to embed their dire; dividing the spoils..
Gifts these gods; obscure, burning pages torn from pyres ? Historic's, white sheets
Draped an oblong box; adorned of black italic lines; criss cross, her corpse this state ?
Flesh bone as blood waiting for a thought, his rag dolls; cankerous sores blue lips; broken.

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Cindy Lu Date: 10/11/2013 3:15:00 PM Dark. I think sometimes that the darker writing is good. As to where one can get all the gunk to the surface to discard it. Knowing what is left within yourself, lovely poet is much of a very wise man tired of the worldly brushing its evils against you. I love your poetry because it speaks profound volumes at many things we ignore, or atleast try to ignore such darknesses.. I seem to be drawn to your poetry every day. As if in a subtle way I am saying: what is my friend John doing today? With my love and respect, Lucinda Login to Reply