Thursday, November 24, 2011

This Is Yours

Since our dear Idealist is M.I.A, and this blog is rather empty as of now, I thought I'd post a short poem I wrote for somebody a while ago.

This Is Yours
This poem is yours from start to end
These words you've breathed into my pen
Lacing the page from left to right
They splay your soul in black and white
An eye, a limb, a lock of hair
Bound in ink, alive, aware
Yet set so still upon the page
Innocence upon a stage
Of virgin snow, expanse of white
Venom writhing into sight
It shrieks a hideous burning rage
For who could bind to paper stage?
A seagull wrenched from tendrils black
It flaps in frantic heavy flaps
The vacuum gapes upon the stage
A mangled, empty paper cage


--Cynic signing off

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