works burned to cinders
poplar trees leaking resin
bulging eyes lashed
punishment as a lesson
but his chain links snapped
fresh from slavery
hefty debts to the procession
the gally of people alike
that lent him a hand to his ascension
a journey his own
luck and his mind
fortified his constitution
they carried him to his fate
that was to be
absolution

The November 25, 1963 day of the cold sun,
the noble horses,
white horses-drawn caisson,
the dignity of their somber gait,
silver shoes resounded on the
pavement,
the skittish night-black riderless
horse-
Black Jack, led down the avenue
of the people,
his symbolic rider, no longer
bound to the earthly life, it's
sorrows.

The noble horses accompanied
him on his journey to the ages,
the mystique, the dreams,
deathless,
where the ground is hallowed-
Arlington.

It’s all taking too long--
The commute, the wait
The procession, the speech
The descent, the dark--
I’ve dressed for the occasion
And repose in my finest robe
I just wish
He’d hurry up
Already

--
c

Here comes the procession.
They march through streets muddied with rain.
They're lead by figures dressed in black.
People look on in fear at their raven masks.

The birth of the daughter was sad,
because there's a sickness that plagues this land.
It feeds on those doomed to a horrible fate.
Though they start out their lives in innocence.

No one knows when it will end,
how does death take one's hand?
Those figures dressed in black take off their masks,
to reveal humans who have been put to task.

But people move on and pretend,
that this plague does not prey upon them.
Only a certain few must suffer the memories,
and they'll question the silence of this land.

it has started
the slow drift
moving across land
******* at the seas
whispering across the earth
charming music from the stones
drawing power from the stars
moving minds
directing hearts
air hums
light crackles
building intensity
the gathered energy
pennants flutter the quiet call to arms
forming
procession

@journeyofdays

There was a funeral procession today
Did you see it?
I didn't get too
I bet it was beautiful
Lot's of black?
I've always liked black
How many cars were in it?
10? 20?
30?!
I would have given anything to see it
I wish i wasn't cooped up in this box
I miss everything

Swallows round steeples,
Indifferent as enlightened ones,
Purple robes in skies.

Cat buries her ****  .  .  .
Dog digs up the carcass bone,
  .  .  .  Crow steals it away.