Dead station of soul, cold
a cuneiform of heavenly hosts
on a cathode ray tube, born
shadows of forgotten sliver gods roam
digital tears, a broken modem's wail, fear
the hollow shell of the sky, cracking
nightshade fingernails fawn
lost in the echo chamber
waiting for a mechanical dawn
Our World as seniors
My world has become one of the impossible,
where the impossible may become possible.
My world has become one of fantasy,
fantasies that becomes ones reality.
Reality where ones limited imagination,
combined with visions, artistry and talent
take ones existence, one’s mind into realms,
beyond that of this world, our reality
and into to the ether world of ones dreams
ones desires, forcing one from facing reality
beyond that projected from a cathode ray tube,
such as wick 1, 2, 3, 4 which lite up my hours.
B. J. “A ” 2
March 27th, 2024
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.