The Doors Muted
guard the garden (we are the only instructions)
faced with sand, glass, and mirrors… did you
hear that? (sounds of plunder) the fangs of birth
crying…waters demanding life…effluvia…spit
from the dragon we receive all our legends
and monsters (the preacher slams his fist down
on the podium) the bible (bound in leather) warriors
clash tongues swap swords (the sun prays darkness
upon the temple) painted eyes hand over what is left
(for honor the gods demand) another missed meal
for the dog sniffing refuse…the doors…muted…
SLAM
(dissonance in the lie words inaccurate the great vessel poisoned electric inspiration shock of authority dementia where is that sound the teeth open phrases unearthly esoteric splitting over the clay cliffs craving what it already lost…)
and walking through the town the ghosts see graveyards and hide in the blink of still photography…
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
