A band of storytellers cries at the wake.
We mourn the basic rhythm of tomorrow,
Your words, overpowered by the bass.
Could I ask a question? And could you
Respond in all honesty, modestly?
We can revel in the slowly realized truth?
We have watched the moon drop,
Crestfallen. (and I am still alive)
But my heart is in the pawnshop.
The muses bestowed upon me
Memento mori, lovers confusion,
And the cutthroat enemy.
For what is the point of poets, if not to romanticize the unforgivable?
We mourn the basic rhythm of tomorrow,
Your words, overpowered by the bass.
Could I ask a question? And could you
Respond in all honesty, modestly?
We can revel in the slowly realized truth?
We have watched the moon drop,
Crestfallen. (and I am still alive)
But my heart is in the pawnshop.
The muses bestowed upon me
Memento mori, lovers confusion,
And the cutthroat enemy.
For what is the point of poets, if not to romanticize the unforgivable?
- crisscross's blog
- Sprout
- Log in or register to post comments
elise.writer
Nov 17, 2022
This is probably my favorite thing I have read in a while. It is so amazing, so poetic, so dramatic, so bold and subtle at the same time, and most of all, so scattered and strange and curious and utterly confusing in the most beautiful way. Thank you so much for this this is an AMAZING poem and you are an AMAZING writer, never stop writing, this poem is so strangely beautiful :)<3
Elise Cournoyer.... "Never let anyone make you feel ordinary" -Evelyn Hugo