Monday, November 14, 2011

Cliffs (a random poem I decided to post)


All bottled up like fine wine or genies, my words can't escape with the smoke from the thurible. My prayers in my throat, do not wander or float, they drop round my feet in a slow motion picture.

Passion escapes but has no direction, spiraling like demons to the house where the Godless live. Seeping through walls that were meant to keep secrets so no one would fear what they cannot believe in.

Stuck in the center of the body that keeps me, lay all of the promise that finally grew cold, like all good intentions that fall from the edges of cliffs with no fences and no hands to hold.

The pew is a hard wood no comfort for sinners, remind me I'm lowly, entwined in the splinters. Like Christ come to show me the thorns in his crown, I show him my movie, he cries at the end.

All bottled up like sand in a glass, I turn upside down and receive one more chance. Dizzy from spinning and gnawing my way, up for a breath and a glimpse of the day. Yet I glimpse nothing new, but the lines in my face my reflection is faint like a mist in this place so I see yet I don't and I can't resist so I turn to the glass and my own lips I kiss.

Tracey 2011

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Thanks, again, for sharing yourself on this blog.