The sky wells up with mizzle
Or is it only my eyes misting over?
The sun lapses, languishes behind
A column of atomizing clouds
Like spun cartilage and I,
A precursor to the wreckage.
The thunder is in me
A lone door confiscated
By my paramensia,
By my denouement,
By my untenable greed.
–
I don’t have the right
Attitude for beauty,
The smile, a cue,
A handle for the iris,
For your fascist foot
To silence the recitation
Of my grievances
My sessions sound
Albeit underutilized.
–
I would recognize
The Devil anywhere
He is my father
My blood, the fecal paint
On my noxious cell.
Had I realized that I would
Meet him again and again
Wearing the faces of others
Posturing as a friend,
A sweetheart, an auxiliary
I would have given up.
–
Wherever there is hope
There is innocence
And I know despite
What I have known
That good men exist
For I have found
The impossible, the unicorn,
The life-giving cocktail
Love of the highest grade
Love that encourages
Love that instills poetry
In places where the muse
Was not suspected to exist.
For
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/06/07/writing-prompt-110-meraki/
and
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/06/08/wordle-64-june-8-2015/
mindlovemisery 