Best Gurge Poems
Chapter One
Boy into the West
Dawn upon my cloak
Urged and so converged were the guns
Seeding myself with the rest
I broke in the eye of the Sun
Settling my mind on the heartless rapist. Time
Rasterize the faces
So thumb through the annals
Purged and so emerged fleshy etchings of this child
Breast wheels churn uncertainly
Moistened embers dance to the deafening drum
Tidal ducts offer piquant waters of the Pacific coffer
I arrive on the sands
Chapter Two
Hole in the Wall
Deserted in this mind
Hover in and now behind
Stare blank up through the ceiling stucco
Gathering in the stench of ghastly breath of wine
The New Year clothes itself topside
Unfashionable walls crush youthful spirit I drink alone, until morning
Demons of mine in lethargy
Gnawed and sluggish slivers bond my illness
Horizons of hues of shapes the girl knowing
Waking sweat cools slyly treats itself to my tongue
Warmth of girl takes my breath save the end of I prepare
God, are you there?
Chapter Three
Erosion
All in the deflection
Though his reflection isn't mine
Blood in kind of brotherly loving spiteful me
We close our doors of aid restraining love I have
For angry boys reject the angry drudge
Slave to a toilsome loving grudge
It is raining erosion
Blinding contortion
Why in my hands I can't see you yet
My rock there I can’t see her stand
These matters wash away too comfortably
I the destined rock
To erode on as grain of sand
Chapter Four
Facing the Crow
Give to the death
Long confronting his road
Gurge open those words she once clung on
Hung from the rope he dove to the end
I die decay per diem death
Metaling her heart on his mindless last breath
I survive only by his hand...
T.R.Sevrens
In purple twilight of REM mode
where loss of reaction dwells.
Inner thoughts corrupt, corrode,
peaceful slumber, anxiety swells.
Eyes flutter trying to concentrate,
directing bodily forces, not there.
Focusing thought to force irate
confrontation to the obtuse, fare.
The scene comes and goes away,
we reach within our mind to grab it,
clinging, we emerge and sway,
between fact and fiction we emit.
Stop, let my true dream emerge,
Not some farcical, non real jam
woven from cognizant thought gurge.
Let me spin truth’s web of who I am.
® Sep 04 2010 Charles Henderson
Catagory: The dream of self
For Constance's "Fragmented Dream" contest