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It's your birthday, December twenty first

make a wish

let the candelabras burn an inch

something precious

in the morning, evening kiss

you've always longed for.



Pray beneath the mistletoe, adorned

grab your popcorn

the couch besides the window looks so grand

take a peek

with a smack of lips on buttery fingers, *prang!*

there goes the earthly orb.



Park your derriere mid-chew

enjoy

the riots, panicked, raving loons

peering out

with that last piece of popcorn in your mouth

hear those shouts



that the world is ending

breathe the fumes

the flames are sending

see the crowds of mental patients cry



the morning after

the

disaster sends the paranoia hangover *High!*

of a cityscape in shreds



Sirens resonating with your bed

a good book to send yourself to dream,

it was your birthday today

and you got to listen to the lunatics scream.

COMMENTS

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lovebites
05:01 Jan 07 2017

This is great! ...

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POST COMMENT

The torrential flames consume what what once was known as freedom,

and the waft debris latent in the streets of hearts bursts forth

worse then any building's collapse. Fore what is collapsing is our peaceful hopes in a dignified future. The crowds in waiting, rage and anxious loathing watch as one revolution dies with more to follow as the walking shadows quaff the backdrop flames latent in our hearts with retardant foam. One dictator's seed was sown, after then next has stole, our homes and what will befall us next without it? That mother all our hearts have grown, that mother birthed us, weened us and cared for us, that dream we conceived together to be a free, individual group of people again, robbed of us because we dared to stand up and say no together. May you rest in peace, our peaceful dreams.

In the eve, surrounded by my fallen dreams

I've left my hopes behind.

I've left my aspirations stranded,

buried deep within the depths of time.



My pen is lost, in sweat and tired

efforts wasted in the moments past,

all I feel know is in question,

melancholy, none had asked.



Somewhere maybe, lurks a future

what it is, I cannot know

but till then, *lie* my nose is buried

the sands of time for lack of snow.