The Dead Like Me...

Just a poem in pain.

The Dead like me...

life is but a dream 

on it's way towards death, 

our lives spilled out 

in every single breathe. 

a madness no more 

caught in a throat 

a sputtering choke 

on tears of pain I bloat 

softly the sweet silence 

then an early morning dew 

the honeysuckle smells 

fading in a breeze once knew 

the cricket violinist 

lost in the bullfrogs call 

while a sing song melody 

by beaks on branches tell all 

the smell of the sunrise 

filling senses not much 

pale hands passing thru all 

leaving nothing for touch 

eyes seeing only in waves 

energy passing inside out 

my mind no longer in chaos 

whispers; "no need to shout" 

the staircase fully appears 

swirling colors in fine hues 

while step after step I climb 

my fleshly loss I slowly lose!  

© 10:50 PM 8/21/2006 

by "Tao2004" Dean Harrison

Reviews

[Unforgivable]

My new all time favourite poem! Your writing is amazing