A Fist Full of Poesy

Apocalypse

Thick walls resist the flames of outward heat
While ashen coals wither to dust inside.
An empty tomb, void of human carcass,
Locked in the iron caress of silence.
A tuneless dirge rots to a molten beat.
White-hot screams and fire wrenched joys subside.
A mound of flesh lurches with lifelessness,
Blind to the flicker of unmet brilliance.
Terror holds sunlight safe in the darkest deep,
Hidden from noise, robbed of the cause to weep.


Mantra

Sun shimmers in a gentle, blinding scorch.
I lay my soul bare against the earth's core,
Extracting strength from the coils of life.
I reach for the vast distance of the stars,
Holding my being as an inner torch.
Joys and sorrows ebb against my heart's shore.
As I release relentless strains of strife.
My song is your song, pock-riddled with scars.
Renewed with wisdom, embalmed for death,
I embrace the forever flow of breath.


Resilience

Brittle bones shook at the threat of your bite
Hollow heart screeched with fear of the wild
Sallow skin faded, fondled and caressed
By finger-soft fetters made from your dust.

Water hardens in wake of winter's night.
A giant grows in place of ghost child,
Stretched taunt inside the height of her proudest
Death and fueled with fumes of molded lust.

Yesterday's yearnings slacken to finite
Remembrances. Cold. Lifeless. Defiled.
You severed your soul from my bleating chest,
I am free from the creaking aches of rust.

Poisoned morrow molds to an iron will,
Blackened by sorrow, trained to hunt and kill.