blasted for a voice seldom heard
And I suppose its a lachrymose reunion that you seek, is it?
one where I’m on bended knee apologising for what you did to me?
that funeral dirge still smarts my ears from time ago
from when the ground shook, though only from your stamped foot.
And my head ached from your banshee screech
its funny how the indolent attitudes preclude the cruelty of love,
favouring in you, your war growling annoyance and gritted teeth
a bold streak of daring; a black sun.
Such palpable silence as you flick out your tongue
tasting the sour bile atoms afloat the air,
your looks want me, not dead
though, not totally alive and breathing either.
This afternoon of reflective ticks and tocks
is like a corduroy visor, a hurried meal of salacious chastity,
spread unevenly upon the finest short reprimand
spoken from the lisp of a sturdy sage.
How I yearn for a tall glass of backbone juice
or maybe some epoxy resin to hold my spine in place, rigid,
as I need some bravery to speak ill of the living
I need the strength and verve not to fade into the wallpaper
( as I am blasted for my voice, seldom heard )
(2014)
