In The Dark

 

Talking to shadows in the dark

The betrayal has left its mark

Realizations have become so stark

No foreseeable rescue from the ark,

 

Who were you back in the day?

I’m afraid that’s why we went astray

Those shiny words you used to say

Those were the very reasons I fell prey,

 

Who am I to simply move on?

When it seems the season has come and gone

Just another reason I can’t see the light

Another reason to give up the fight,

 

It seems that there’s been a lifelong derision

Based upon the failure of well-intended decision

Thought this cancer of the mind was in remission

Just to haunt me again with another edition,

 

Of this endless loop of dark chapters

Where angels transform into velociraptors

Where soothsayers become my detractors

Where your trusted lover is just a bad actor,

 

Hidden in archeological layers

The unseen atrocities of forgotten prayers

Buried in the crypts of the cynical naysayers

The excrement of the practiced lines of the players,

 

Talking to shadows in the dark

The betrayal has left its mark

Realizations have become so stark

No foreseeable rescue from the ark.

 

 

 

 

Views: 58

Comment by J.P. Hart on September 15, 2018 at 12:04pm

You sure as hell can be such an astute asteroid some days, DV!

Comment by Doc Vega on September 15, 2018 at 1:45pm

J.P. I'll take that as a compliment thanks

Comment by J.P. Hart on September 15, 2018 at 2:14pm

Your like one of those velveteen roadside paintings of Washington crossing the Potomac, DV! Y'll almost catapulted me into a 'not-ready-for-op-ed' essay:                                'Founding or Floundering Fathers?'                                                                                                                                                                                                                Just  the other day or last month I was chagrined when the very bright and prolific SBA of Our Salon revealed she can't rhyme her poultry (or whos it catch-22 (i think that was her real-named two-three American Poetry Review issues ago; early summer, deep in the two-thousand-twenty-eighteen, Songbird, Rita Shibr, Ben-Sen, ASH, a/k/a (wait! there's an whole icon POETRY)...for certain, I'll conclude: ABRAXAS & TAXES-RESCUE EIGHT-what else 'ya got on your plate? Of nix & noir, that's me, asleep upon the shore                    evidence of corporatcracy beneath my sole, right outside the screendoor, that crunch of late summer leaves, like all those who grieve, too soon the fate of polar blast, discolored dark and dead, wicked-wrecked, pulverized, due to whispers, closed doors, those plots contrived...so run silent...hues of scarlet...hour of even hands...gotta save the land

 

Comment by J.P. Hart on September 15, 2018 at 2:43pm

You're not your :)

You're most welcome, DV!

I just searched the midway point 'twixt Madison, WI and Austin, TX:                                                                                                                                                Emporia, KS!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      1,220 miles / 1 963 km                                                                                                           

Comment by koshersalaami on September 15, 2018 at 2:57pm

I might suggest experimenting with other rhyme schemes just to exercise your chops

Comment by Doc Vega on September 17, 2018 at 10:02am

Kosher I'm not into iambic pentameters because these lyrics poems what have you are simply the products of instantaneous emotions and feelings. So I capture them on paper before the inspiration fades away. Thanks for the comment though.

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