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neal-emanuelsonPoems
So the moonlight doesn’t hold its shine Properly, dazing in the withered bellows of tenements Another drink… Slips past the window and all is Forgotten… As the strays lap up what is slowly draining hope The fire escape to be used only for the hangings... Hangings of sins Heh, several dangling from the clotheslines of neighbors Never taken down one, Since two take up new residence each day. And the streets are littered with the glass… Glass of broken saint’s sorrow, But then maybe tomorrow the ‘godly sweepers’ Will come out a cleanse our minds of the heretics Heralding… Hark, I hear the ambulance sirens singing for just one more soldier to achieve misguided salvation. Just across the window, moaning with delight A ****** Mary room occupant gripping wildly At the cold, listless windows. Her cage is her own life sentence smeared across the Pane… Whispering yells of silent content in the hollow of the room Her air turns to blissful lust and seep through… Through to my wishes of... The pleasures, I only whisper back, "We could be together on these empty streets." © 2006
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Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
Empty Streets
So the moonlight doesn’t hold its shine Properly, dazing in the withered bellows of tenements Another drink… Slips past the window and all is Forgotten… As the strays lap up what is slowly draining hope The fire escape to be used only for the hangings... Hangings of sins Heh, several dangling from the clotheslines of neighbors Never taken down one, Since two take up new residence each day. And the streets are littered with the glass… Glass of broken saint’s sorrow, But then maybe tomorrow the ‘godly sweepers’ Will come out a cleanse our minds of the heretics Heralding… Hark, I hear the ambulance sirens singing for just one more soldier to achieve misguided salvation. Just across the window, moaning with delight A ****** Mary room occupant gripping wildly At the cold, listless windows. Her cage is her own life sentence smeared across the Pane… Whispering yells of silent content in the hollow of the room Her air turns to blissful lust and seep through… Through to my wishes of... The pleasures, I only whisper back, "We could be together on these empty streets." © 2006
#idolizationsoftheloverscompetence
neal-emanuelson
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neal-emanuelson
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
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