Offal

I

Here in the dim lit room
Held together with velcro
I await for an awakening
There is a gaggle of gods about me
And I hear the mice being murdered in rafters
While my stereo melds a melody
An edible static like
Ants in my mouth
And bees on my tongue
So I spit the honey and drink the stings
And I drown the birds and cage the wings
To breathe, to breathe
The liquid light
From the cigarette between my gasoline lips
In amorous delight

II

The flame of my flesh and this napthalene world
Resting upon a rusted needlepoint
Take heed of the dust motes
Suspended in time
For they are you
And they are me
Awaiting
With nothing to see
In the far too near eternity

III

I see stars in my bedroom
And prophets under my eye
Rainbows growing from my skin
As I fall into the sky
And there is a hymn in my ears
That aches “Praise to thee”
And I am drowning in my tears
Eating a faded tapestry

Author: TheHumanAnvil

I find poetry as a gentle reminder, a medium to relay and dwell upon all things considerate people find inconsiderate. Poetry as an art is akin to a lamp or a magnifying glass. It trails volumes of meaning behind obscure, vague words. I have been writing for a time now, and intend to do so for the time to come. And hopefully, hopefully, hope that one day, someday, a person stumbling across this veil of words, find it alluring enough to shift aside the curtain and peer, into the eyes of the naked truth which sways with the wind of reason. If you have any thoughts, it would be my pleasure to know them, if you don't then it would be a pleasure to not. Be my guest. This feast of words is for you.

4 thoughts on “Offal”

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