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 Aug 2018 Sam Hammond
Orange Rose
I wrote a poem when I died...
Another at my birth.
A brand-new sonnet when I cried.
And again when there was mirth.

A song for my confession...
A story for my pain...
A painting for depression...
And nursery rhymes for rain.

My creations live inside my heart.
I keep them there in shame.
Yet you looked around and saw my art,
And smiled all the same.
We
If only I could make you see
that you and me are really “we”
and together we are “them” and “those”
not separate from the love that grows
inside the one, the us, the all
shuffling feet recede with the sinking heat
shadow chanters possess the street
sidewalk dancers work their song
the mind a clenched fist
pounding a one beat drum
a hustle in lunacy
chasing crank and doom

sound surrounds a fool
that is what you hear
the constant humm lost in the ear
exhales as a kindle, leads a rumble
the bellow of a beast howling thunder
the sound so pleasing
crawls under the skin
begins to breath
becomes the wind

jacked up
spread thin
spinning shards of speed
believing all the joy in greed
sabotage of self redeem
a play to crash and fiend
infringes the sound of terror
louder than an ocean roars
misery always begs more

hand on a knife
steady work in a glisten
fury breathes bending twisted
thrashing fragile decline
slashing sublime
carving within the lines
seeking a hollow spine
nothing seen to intervene

struck hard to a mad core
falling through every door
landing in the sleep of dreams
face in a pillow
held to the floor
nothing left to bargain
suffocation frees a demon
leaves a human being


Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
 Aug 2018 Sam Hammond
galio
drugs
 Aug 2018 Sam Hammond
galio
her lips tasted like narcotics
and yet i felt the revolution
kissed her fingertips
and smelled marijuana

the dark eyes


and the reckless abandon

— The End —