I Grasp the Smoke of a Decaying Past

March 30, 2012
I grasp the smoke of a decaying past,
And blacken my hands with the soot
Of a decaying present.

I punch the walls of tradition,
And bloody my hands with the sanguine
Of a crumbling future.

I bang my head on the tables of virtue,
And lighten my head with the hysteria
Of unanswerable questions.

I stroke the soft fur of beauty,
And prick my hand on the spiky coat
Of a petrifying splendor.

I touch the glow of a wish,
And burn my hands on the white-hot light bulb
Of past disappointments.

I open a scripture of augurs,
And leaf through the dusty pages
Of inane follies.

I touch the works of man,
And lament the miserable state
Of an irreversible condition.

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RandomInspiration said...
Apr. 19, 2012 at 9:52 pm
All of your poems have several amazing lines, but just don't flow together completely...try reading them and really feeling for the flow and making sure that all the lines fit together.  Very intensely deep though, the thoughts and meanings are really intriguing. Keep writing please! :)
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