Well here I am sitting in the Chapters bookstore, at the Starbucks, where the simulated fireplace is all aglow, reminding us all that it is full-fledged autumn now.
My favorite season of the year.
Since I said all of that jazz about amateur poetry yesterday, I thought that maybe I would fling one of my own dear poems out to the four winds of the blogosphere, to land where it may.
The hardening is deliberate and cruel,
as is all that will come thereafter.
The only consolation being that so many,
so very many others, share the same fate.
The heat, the sweat, the pain.
Left and right, succumbing to the pressure,
those known to you perish.
Blown apart, ripped open, left white
in shock. Naked guts torn inside out.
A mushroom cloud of exposed flesh,
shards of skeleton clinging to the core.
Throw these now (still exhaling steam)
to the gaping maw, to be mashed to pulp
and lowered into hot acid.
Ground in the mingled bile and bones
of comrades, and finally
rammed the length of a cold hard pipe
into a rotting cesspool…
where there is nothing,
nothing more devastated
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2005
Favorable comments, random praise, spontaneous applause, and saying stuff like “You are so very Yeats-like” are welcome!