Idle Idols

Seeing past tomorrow
for all the stars in my eyes
is like reflecting my conviction
for all the world to see

If I'd throw my glance
in another direction
the momentum would shift
the foundation of nations

I've been a beautiful idea
many times over

It's odds against a one-ten split
to save the self, break the grip
give the slip
to bonds that bound me tighter

I'm often like an afterthought
even internally
behind the fear
that monoliths lie like idle idol
adornments
begging for remembrance

When I was a gust of sacred wind,
voice of gods
concrete ideas that never crumbled-
unable to bear the weight
of convenient revision
outside the lines of self

This death is one of degrees-
so close to absolute zero, or thereabouts
photographs, with a fine sifting of neglect
ink, as stale as the sentiment

Vacant congregations
sinning for a sign from the heavens:
a slap in the face,
a stake in the heart,

are less than enough
without
certain soul calibrations

Skirt all obstacles in our past
escape and evade
subconcience, not subconscious

It seems as if
euphemism is eucharist
a clever sort of apathy

Throwing down the chalk
picking up the stylus
to never draw a line
anywhere, for anything

Reviews

[Seriana]

The alliteration in this piece is phenomenal. Not over the top and not too little. Just the right touch. The literal analogy of chalk and stylus is far too real in this day and age and completed the sentiment of your piece in a very fitting manner. Everything about this piece was flawless. It's filled with raw emotion, displayed nicely on the page and filled with what I can only imagine are some very real influences. Well done!

[Helen Crutchett]

A wonderful poem you have penned here Tobes. Loved the read. Penn on my friend..

Helena