Poem by: Tinas words
Submitted: April 03, 2012
With rust transferred to fingers
and strength telling tales of failure
We curse the heavy invisible links
that bind us to this life
Seems the blade of freedom
swells blunt and still
Seems the scent of tomorrow
remains paused in yesterday
Bruised cold hands
patterned with ambitious blood
I curse the heavy black drapes
that leave rainbows absent
Seems the noose of freedom
sways frayed and alone
Seems the dreams of tomorrow
are visions that haunt; today
Wrists with tattoos of absence
diagrams that blur
We curse the grey sodden clouds
choke on fuel stitched air
Seems the stirred freedom
bubbles wet and ineffective
The poison of tomorrow
labeled a cure for today...
If I could lend weight to the blade
If I could tighten the knot
If I could underwrite the poison
I would not be the failure, the mirror suggests..............
© Copyright 2016 Tinas words. All rights reserved.
oooooh Phillip, hard core feeling here!
what's with the struggle.. i thought to be about the emmense emotional happenings amongst many but then I thought of someone in prison.
Still and again I thought of wrenching labor.
But then I come to think that it is about death; or rather waiting for it.
Someone that is dying a painful drugged out death.
an audio soon eh?
Ok well hey i ran across your picture on anothers page, thought; oh hey, long time, i'll go see if he's still posting.
Hey, thanks for stoping by :) I can only give my take on what its about. I think we can watch loved ones try and constantly hurt themselves, and think we are helping by interfering, when maybe we would be wiser helping them accomplish their journey. But who knows... LOL
This is fantastic. I love roaming through Booksie and stumbling on stuff like this. Intense, emotive imagery. the last stanza is potent. very good.
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