No Hand.

A look into the mind of us that survived.

Solace finds itself hidden in closed eyes,

Bunching movement hastens to wake the terror,

Fasten those lids and dare not open in haste,

Bleach the mind of hope as the body now sparer.

Night somehow licenses the dead to rise,

Brandy and ice, the liquor of evil and breath,

Slack morals allow for your hands to grip me,

Silence now my only place to give and death.

Open legs the prize of demons forced thoughts,

A shallow hovel above a sign in times square,

Fallen stars with wishes bestowed upon them,

Never work dear God they never leave you spare.

The kit awaits in sterile halls at ones doctors hands,

Those damn eyes of pity will sicken the most bland,

No it's time for all us puppies to heave our broken bones,

To slip away to times on building ledges no hand.

Author's Note

Be honest as always.

Reviews

[Andrew N. Farrens]

This is great:
'Night somehow licenses the dead to rise,
Brandy and ice, the liquor of evil and breath,
Slack morals allow for your hands to grip me,
Silence now my only place to give and death.'

Speaks volumes to me for reasons I likely do not want to understand.....
Res Ipsa Loquitur

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you.

[nastassia]

Sorry so late but I love this piece

[Stan Lee]

I enjoy this poem that utilises rich language to portray emotions and ideas. Thanks for sharing!

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you.

[Rideama]

This was really great to read, it is clear how passionate you are about poetry. I enjoyed it a lot.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you.

[Kenneth The Poet]

This reads like a purge honestly. Some deep-seeded stuff you reveal here.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Well one does try.

[外人 (Gaiji..]

Very strong and captivating images, I read it over and over again, still struggling with the rich language you used. However, I definitely enjoyed it, I can see how heartfelt it is.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

thank you.

[Dayran]

There's much that goes on in our lives ... that's like a drift in the wind. It would appear that we had no hand in it.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you.

[Pryde Foltz]

The kit awaits in sterile halls at ones doctors hands,
Those damn eyes of pity will sicken the most bland,
No it's time for all us puppies to heave our broken bones,
To slip away to times on building ledges no hand.

Pity is a broken bone to gnaw on for sure. Clever write, Thomas:)

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you.

[Valentine]

Survival of the fittest or survival of those who are fortunate enough to never have to face the evils or darkness of this world.Valentine

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Indeed thank you

[Ruth]

You remind the reader to rise above...survival in insightful tones and your usual style of emotion...really tangible piece love :)

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thanks doll.