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.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Quite a powerful poem that could be an anthem for those who survive the evils of mankind and look to not let it define them.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Indeed thank you

[TL Boehm]

there is a sinister veneer to this. It coils and seethes - it is resolute against the anguish. Terror, horror, brutalities change puppies into werewolves and this poem has its teeth.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you x

[Coyote Poetry]

Strong and powerful thoughts in the poem my friend.
"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."
The above lines stood out. Left the reader with a lot to ponder. Thank you Thomas for sharing your amazing poetry.
Coyote

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Thank you x

[Coyote Poetry]

You are welcome.