My thoughts scramble
And dig and dig
Until they reach
My skull where they bump
The shovel and Grit
Their teeth.

Amongst the sound
Of the rain hitting
The metal canopy
That covers the cars,
I can distinctly
Hear the horn
Of a train,
Everything else
Comes with imagination,
The wheels hitting
The track,
The wagons shaking
And roaring through
The intense rain
That floods the streets
And makes me feel
Nostalgic.

By his side, the devout chant God's glory
in a life so brittle and fragile
yet not lacking in strength to navigate
on the river of chaotic turbulence.

Some are tearlessly silent,
a few are about to embrace a cry
and there is one whose wails
reverberate and pound the walls.

The ascent to the greater kingdom
is adorned with white lotus
and incense that smell of heaven.

Filled with the finality
there is no point denying,
the atheist sleeps on peacefully.

Thoughts on a Sunny Morning


It's a sad **** day when
Memories fail and
leave without
a tool
for poetry.

Ric holds
the gate
but not the

key

Soulless longing for
the accidental brush
of synchronicity.
The breath of destiny.

Drunk on yesterday,
Without the touch
of indifference

memories under
consciousness
flay

me.

Bleeding,
the
pressure of
old promises

Unwright

me

Caroline Shank
5.15.2024