invitation

warm waves of friendship abloom,

laughter is drunk and singing too loud.

but, grace is our only language

in this magical slum.

 

as happy shadows slide longer,

misty rain cools tired souls.

music flows like a determined river

cutting through the granite mountain.

 

I see you slowly dying

from across the asphalt void.

your head is a nest of mad wasps,

your soul is a trampled battle banner.

 

please, come and taste my medicine.

I promise the rest won’t last long,

and the pain will still be as gut-twisting

upon your return to your frantic grave.

Reviews

[roarke]

hat trick today.....

I'll throw in my Beanie and Cecil propeller beanie......

[Divinity Sleeps in This]

I like the intensity in this, and most especially lines 3 and 4. The third stanza is really great for the grand hurra of the piece. It doesn't get much closer to home, these days.