When do flowers no longer bloom
and the sea's stop touching the shore.
Light from the heaven's fail to shine
and the birds shall sing no more.
Innocent's of children no longer play
as time like a candle melts away.
Fleeting are the moments
we get to spend
and death is the reason
it all does end.
'Follow your dream'
easier said than done
as the girl of my dreams
for me she is the only one
and yet for her I don't exist
she sees through me sad to say
don't have what (it) takes her fancy
won't even look my way
as ships which pass in the night
our two hearts will never meet
I find mine's a dead-end dream
on the wrong side of a one-way street
The echo of the hollow the emptiness of distress
The guilty pointed finger of a calculated guess
The dust left unattended leaves such a filthy mess
When it settles on the hollow of all the emptiness
The fire and the flicker and the ever burning flame
The color rogue on a cheek brightened by the shame
The tragedy embroidered and pictured in a frame
Has changed life forever and nothing is the same
The whisper in the ear that blows lies in the wind
The equation of the math unable to comprehend
The smoke slowly rises into skies where it blends
When life makes its final turn into its dead end
The eternal creature laughs over and over again
To God you pray in fear begging for mercy, Amen
bmdavey@11/13/2024
A random road wanders across the desert
as voluminous clouds chase the rising sun
nary a sound can be heard, save for the
whipping wind and clicks of insects.
The yawning horizon stretches out
reaching towards a vast, expansive sea
its crystalline beauty is but a deceptive liar
for death surrounds her ever lapping shores.
Almost uninhabitable she is
like a barren womb in want
her waters are lifeless, a fluid grave
bearing witness of her desolate decay.
Fish carcasses tell their solemn tales
along her distant, lonely shores
their bony apertures are splayed and pecked
hungry seagulls circle, hunting for scraps.
Relentless winds are spreading littered
whitewashed bones, causing them
to tumble about
conjuring up a false sense of life.
Now the moon is rising
as acrid air hovers over the sullen sea
the winds seem to shout, “go away”
a dull emptiness prevails.
The blackest night, save for the moon
descends upon this accursed place
where the bony beach rattles its lifeless tunes
along a haunting shoreline
that no one wants to see
where no one wants to be
beside the Salton Sea.
Down at the end of dead end street,
Cold, down and feeling beat,
Trying to make sense of it all,
Sun rises burning red,
Visions spinning in my head,
Now every dead end street leads to me.
Blowing around in stormy weather,
Like a bunch of dead leaves,
I'd be a boarded up home,
I'd be a rusty old car sitting up on blocks,
And every dead end street leads to me.
On dead end street looking back in my rear view mirror,
The view used to be much clearer,
I want to see sunrise on the dead end street,
I want smiles from every body I meet,
Still every dead end street leads to me.
And there you sit -
contemplating a word,
the other one wrote
that you read,
that they -
had the courage
to throw
into the ring
the choice to take
one’s own;
many times
that thought
arrived
in your own time,
it came and went
turned around
it came and went
lingering
cajoling
ever present
what then?
the world abruptly left,
those behind falling
into ruins
never to be peaced back
together again.
fullstop.
all for a dead end.
what a waste
those full stops are,
when saved to
crown an eye;
freedom;
the choice always given,
is always yours to take,
never theirs -
but what a waste
those full stops are,
when saved to
crown an eye
Candide Diderot. ‘24
pist'n broke
male libido has vanished
an anti climax
Admit you lost track
under a blue fever moon
Buckle your seat belt
The hysterical,
the shrinking curse
Chew dog food, gum
it sure smells delicious
Constant tinnitus
Burn aromatic herbs
Dangerous situations
with sparks from the mains
A threat to the electricity pylons
they are blacked out
The street was familiar
as one's own pocket
Mysterious disappearances
Even not Stephen King
understood what had happened
Down the desolation of a dead-end street,
Lost love's whisper, a heartbeat's retreat.
Echoes of laughter, now silenced and cold,
The tale of a journey, a story untold.
Gone are the riches, the glittering gold,
Faded dreams in a tale that unfolds.
Job's embrace, a fleeting affair,
Friends once near, now distant air.
In shadows of despair, I tread the way,
Searching for light in the muted gray.
The weight of loss, a burden to bear,
On this lonely path of deep despair.
But in the darkness, a flicker appears,
A distant light, through my silent tears.
A glimmer of hope on this desolate track,
A chance to rebuild what despair did lack.
For a new job one day, I drove fast.
I was late and the city was vast.
With no GPS,
I just had to guess
how to get there as minutes flew past.
Some shortcuts I tried. Time so fleet
I swore wouldn’t see me be beat.
Aha, it is here
I cried with great cheer,
till I saw it was a dead-end street.
A U-turn I made right away.
Still lost, I was filled with dismay.
My new job I lost,
but worse was the cost
of the gas I used that one day.
we could
pound our perspectives
as flat as a pancake
and force-feed each other with them.
we could debate
until two plus two is five
and still arrive at
an impregnable impasse;
a dead-end street.
you seem to be as stubborn as I am.
my mind -
and yours -
clearly will not change.
so why don't we agree to disagree?
you see, I'm simply sick of shouting,
tired of talking.
A dead end street like road to hell
A burning bright flame, you can tell
A deep pitfall with no way out
It takes your soul without a doubt
A sharp sickle of death awaits
To put some dead souls in the crates
Towards the way to endless pit
Without a vent, even a bit
The grim reaper waits with his scythe
And in his eyes, there is a blithe
For, there's one more soul, he will take
Or his glory will be at stake
And just before the barb-blocked end
You can do nothing but to bend
That miracle will pave the way
For you to pass the tragic slay
Dead End Street
He is waiting in the dark
In the smoky dark under the railway sidings.
He is nervous in the black
In the black of the black slag piles.
He lights a cigarette and breathes out
His breathing rapid and expectant.
The victim is on his way
On his way to redemption
Victim of stupidity and slur.
There will be no escape
Once bludgeoned and dragged
There is nowhere to go.
The noise of human life begins
Human life that calls time on the light
And the insolent one
Will die tonight.
At the dead-end street or cul-de-sac stands a tall silver lamp pole,
And a portable basketball hoop. I wish I could say there lives not a single soul.
What if the lamp pole sat on a game board on City property?
As fast as this little town is growing, we could play a game of monopoly.
A railroad track there was once, now a highway, and businesses
within a four-block radius causing dizziness.
Traffic so fast, there are a lot of accidents. If you cross the line,
watch where you turn, it’s your fault if you have the stop sign.
Ambulance wails and police sirens sound that drown
Your thoughts, almost all day long around town.
If you stand by the lamp pole, you’ll see them, go by.
You look up at the sky and pray; please don’t let them die.
I am only three houses down from that lamp pole
and highway when I take my dog out for a stroll.
11/9/2023
Many lead first love
For lust, money, fortune, fame
For perilous name.
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