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Synne_Bjørnstein

I'd Like Suggestions for a Title - Poetry Group

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Posted

What is this
poison
that dims hope like light in a room,
caked with cigarette smoke?
The sour bath of
sins
that spoils the fertility of our souls,
like the black sap clogging the
crimson
holes in our conscience.
What is this
medication
that murmurs obediently in the tunnels
of your flesh like a blind fly trapped in an hourglass?
The thick soup that sinks the dredged
pulse of life as it croaks and awakens in
hesitation
for the next perpetual dawn.
A sign tacked like an eviction notice in the skulls
of your dreams, telling them:
“I’m sorry Sir, but for this magnitude of pain,
there is no cure.”
And still like an earthquake, death
trembles at your fingertips like an
old, worn man— asking, perpetually,
“When’s the next train to Calgary?”
I have not the guts to tell him
the smoke has held me
captive
all this time.
©


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Posted

"Poisons in Our Minds" Wow such deep thoughts there Synne.
I feel your poem very much and how our thoughts can keep us from moving forward.


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Arie_Portishead
Posted

''An Excuse of the Soul'' ?


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Posted

i like this poem i could feel it..."Toxic"...


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