Waiting

                                Waiting on one of those unsaid prayers, on those unstretched albatross’s wings

                                Destined for greater things, or the inevitable decay of the lost,

                                This is the time to sit it out. These things—of course—are never to be rushed

 

                                Spurred in situ, the chanced invite and acceptance received done well enough

                                Became a thundering charge, a canter, a stand, or did it?

                                How is it keen, how discordless, how a schmooze? It just is, and why not?

 

                                And so the damned and the righteous, the beautiful and revolting drink up

                                In the company of angels and demons and their tabletop machinations,

                                Those leopards and pussycats: each have claws, but don’t all use them

 

                                Decisions are drowned in a welter of damnable pity, the lab of the unquiet soul,

                                An incidence of jarring references, to the powder keg of desire and counter-desire

                                Then, ka-boom!! It is done—it must be done—please let it be done

 

                                Fighting for good similes, the strings of metaphoric cantations will do, for now,

                                The overused, recycled and downed faithfully ready themselves, but are of no use

                                After all, bare reality will singe the very locks of the heart once and for all

 

                                Some pillowed soft words pleasantly come from sunless rooms, freshly believing

                                For soul’s food, body alignment, smile-sighing reach and darkeye’d terror,

                                The sun-kissed tour takes in all the best places eventually, and regularly returns

 

                                To console is in reflection, where a light bulb can shower equine anticipation,

                                Where three dark swallows can sing above a heart-aching diamond

                                That leans on a loving peace: so go-on—roll me another one—and another and another

Comments

[Xana]

I get a different feeling from this one. Silence was very meaningful and heartfelt. I'm not sure your heart is in it. Correct me if i'm wrong, but this is complicated and your over use words is intellectualising the experience rather than feeling. Not sure it works for me.