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Literature Text
Imprisoned
In an alien place
Of conquered nature
Of manufactured air
Hands of steel
Envelop my roots
My leaves are choking
My children fall in vain
An exhibit
In a cage of stone
A beauty for others
And their blind stupidity
I die each day
I slowly fade away
Carelessly chained
To the kidnapped earth
On my knees
I am shaking terrified
In this madness
In this false reality
I cry and plead
And hope for resurrection
Forever crucified
By beings so arrogant
In an alien place
Of conquered nature
Of manufactured air
Hands of steel
Envelop my roots
My leaves are choking
My children fall in vain
An exhibit
In a cage of stone
A beauty for others
And their blind stupidity
I die each day
I slowly fade away
Carelessly chained
To the kidnapped earth
On my knees
I am shaking terrified
In this madness
In this false reality
I cry and plead
And hope for resurrection
Forever crucified
By beings so arrogant
Literature
Needles of Grass
Needles of grass,
their never-ending rage;
a ghost fire, spreading
the slow burn
that licks at my calves,
that makes my toes seize
and my fingers buzz,
fighting the hollow
numbness that encroaches,
harbingers of the
saccharine drip,
crystallizing synapses.
Eroding the perception of
sight and thought that
drowns in a single depth.
The ebbing of low tide
on a beach of finest silt,
unable to support
anything heavier than the
sea salt that
weeps from my nostrils.
A cycle, a cyst;
moon phases
extolling their revelation.
A parasitic resolve reading a
muted fortune as seen through
facets of a diamond
that nev
Literature
On Broadway Road
There's a naked woman on Broadway Road
Standing, hunched, over the curb
Lightheaded on the stench of gasoline
Baring it all from head to toe
In the spotlight of the city, amidst waves of noise
Her hands struggle to hide the pouch of left-over baby fat
Still clinging to her waist by the umbilical cord
The people gawk and stare her way
Their eyes crawl up and down her skin
and hug the hips, somewhere between curvy and big-boned,
spotting the blemishes, dimples of cellulite;
But no seems to see the tattoos of blood and ink
Stamped across her back like scars
Barely legible through the fog:
“Lost Child; Return to Owner”
Her eyes are
Literature
Abandoned
The stuff of stars never settles;
coming together, then pulling asunder
to drift, to join the ever-quickening race
towards obscurity while being observed.
I walk through cavernous concrete
pathways between skyscrapers,
standing abreast against their self-made
micro-climate, trying to confuse the wind
in my own obscurity, passing
through me like a mental sieve
made of atoms that out-number the
dark matter of abandoned eons.
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The third from my collection 'When the City Speaks'. I found this tree in the middle of a busy street, in a small square patch of ground and thought how strange of an environment it must be for it to grow in.
© 2014 - 2024 Elendurwen
Comments23
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I really have no words for this. All I can say is... true.