Rutflare

Knocked off the beam
fallen off the path
back into bed
back in the bath

Imbalanced is the rhyme
ticking is the time
swallowed is grime
and I linger on the line

Cut are the ties that chase
fallen from grace in haste
it's hard to get back up
when your arms are weak -
it's rough 

and the beings' keeping
a tab
and the longer drawn out
the drab
the more 
it is
like bait
'til it chomps
and says
"too late!" 

I was in the air!
but now I'm in
"Rut-flare"
Get me out of here!
get me out of there ...


- S. Rose Ashcraft

 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Heaven in Hell

Don't ask me how I am Don't say 'I hope you're well You know, I never really am but I don't wanna tell.. and in this house of pain where I dwell I grapple to quell the heat of hell and so's my desire to bake from the fire a heavenly cake in hell to make heaven in hell
Read more

Caul-De-Sac

I'm sitting on the edge of the Caul-De-Sac Looking at one of my childhood homes on a dark,  and cold, and crisp October night Back in 1995 My heart now roams ... There are hand prints in the cement on the driveway  etched in the shadows messy writing in the cement bares a name of mine now fallow but I still know who she is and I'm looking outside and from within and now  my brooding soul hovers   In a shawl, black and knit feet one inch above the ground under street lights dim and lit... The centered street light bathes me in a familiar orange dim and a crows' perched on the rim silently he stares me down as my face bleeds a dripping frown like black slate running down my cheeks this is the greatest, deepest grief  Grieving for all that was I tried so hard to make it last even though I barely grasped  my vibrance, muf...
Read more

Lying seeds

broken glass of a soaking jar never got that far not quite up to par beckoned by the wrong seed to soak to breed 'twas the wrong order, see the wrong angle to heed like the watch ticking in the drawer unsorted in the dishevelled subordinate corner it be and atop there was the jar of seeds failing to sprout with the desperate pixie welling up in a pout for not soaking the right seeds fruition doth leave and nutrition won't be out the door with the breeze then the rageful angry screams shatter the jar with the seeds and the pixie fell to her knees with the tears of the tease of those damn lying seeds! - S. Rose Ashcraft
Read more