Midnight (Revisited)

May or may not delete the other version...time.

I use to walk these roads over midnight

silent as the moon

no door, no star to beckon

no pace, no hand to hold

Just a shell

a wanting far beyond its memory

where passing lovers come and go

In the city of mills I was naked

all the sounds would sloth and sway

your pallet so filled in empty, your kindness unprepared

The sounds assembled around the flame

I've walked these streets before

passing the crackle of handshakes

street lamps fit for none

and still your name would echo

They knew my name from the whispers at midnight

they learned to rip its meaning

and so they'd offer a bellow for the chill 

for the miles after miles still replaying into home

There I listened for another sound 

wounds that use to glow

a mind that roared into thunder

and its markings with blood in  snow

But further 

much farther out 

the price always came too high

no longer was I the meat attached to bone

no longer a willingness proposed

Out there I saw the highest of heights in tower 

I saw a face that gleamed into indigene 

a crypt where I could rest my marrow

These roads that lead out to midnight

are the strangers of true darkness

wandering to town over memory 

where I dream of a kinder time 

but now I feel so dizzy 

tired in the city of clones

I feel dirty and abandoned

left to find some graceful end to it all

Author's Note

This photo is of a red jasper that was found by my grandmother...I recently took it as she held it in amazement of how close it seemed to a face of clay for many years...I do not know where it will end up but I do know it's in this heart to stay!

Reviews

[Shweta]

Your write transports me into nothingness that holds so many meanings all at once.

Such a beautiful write as always Paciano!

[Perdition]

Likewise! And so very kind, She went wild into the Redwoods... tree after tree she was home and once finding that red jasper...well, I think her life was complete. Thank you so much for stopping by and reading as leaving such kind words in your wonderful review. Namaste :)

[1809 Black Plague Decem..]

Dear, Perdition,
The rock so Isometric, J/K
Midnight Hour takes me adrift. Walking in the dark (Midnight)
It grinds my teeth; apprehended by the coldness, the moon (for I loud)
the only thing that saves you from Darkness, the unusual handshake, solute of a popular
wence completely alone, the nakedness, and so much more, won't say,
except hoping you'd find that echoe, great write! Dear,
---19-0 Black Plague Decemeber

[Perdition]

In the deep seeded darkness in that abstract hour, You Know, I always will!
Thanks!!

[Lisasview]

Hi Predition,
I always find your words interesting and often strange...in a good way...
The use of your words makes me think and thinking is always a good thing...right..
I find myself going over and over these lines...each time I read them new thoughts enter my mind..
Really enjoyed the read...
These roads that lead out to midnight
are the strangers of true darkness
wandering to town over memory
where I dream of a kinder time
but now I feel so dizzy
tired in the city of clones
I feel dirty and abandoned
left to find some graceful end to it all
Lisa, working on my poems in rainy Spain

[Perdition]

“ Thinking is always a good thing”… a river of nights could be spent on that line alone. What is it… to think? Is it to embrace these words and then within or without them to feel a stirring and then to break in or out from or in awareness your attention from the gleam of our constant road and consciousness. I’ll drift in that river for awhile in your kind review and hope the rain of Spain does not drown us too harshly…lol. Thank you Lisa! A couple edits here and there, some fresh linseed oil and this might make the pages yet… Smiles ~

[Lisasview]

You are most welcome...
Lisa

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I see a horse's face in the stone.... wild-eyed...running.....foamy

[Perdition]

You should’ve been there yesterday for the mountains and my guitar…. You would’ve seen the ship coming thru storm as well ;)

[Ken e Bujold]

after midnight ... where poets tread to give witness to the dark corners most don't even know exist. Some say fear the shadows, but then they've never truly peeked under the cardboard boxes in the alleys to know. reading your epic I sense another who finds what lurks in the dark to be of endless fascination. loved the visit P

[Perdition]

The “epic” has been established! I have no idea how this was missed but apologies and thanks for the flyover good sir! Hope those page are …. ?!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"the strangers of true darkness"
You come up with some amazing phrasing, my friend.
Poets with your talent inspire me...
And on WC there are not clones, just poets who roam the streets of inspiration after midnight.
I see faces, I see words, I see poems.
I got lost on the streets of this one, and didn't want to find my way back...I wanted to stay where I was seeing what I was.

[Perdition]

Being here since the floorboards were first measured I know all too well of what you speak J. Thank you for trying to stay lost but I also know how you are deeply needed elsewhere as well. Much obliged in your kindness as always~