Dec. 4, 16
Death stands in the rain.
She splashes past, noticing,
"What a gaudy hat you're wearing," she accuses.
The silence you left behind
Is a dirge heard in the ocean deep.
Those sorry words you spoke
Left a cold metallic taste on my tongue.
Longing for something new
A new drawing does not satisfy--
Nor wine, nor chocolate,
Nor love, nor dance,
New books, new films, new friends.
A travel plan will quench temporarily.
But is it the view that needs to change
or does the window simply need cleaning?
When the sun has become sullen
And even the moonlight frowns...
Dec. 11, 2016
Stop deceiving the sun
With your reckless smile
Rains must pour, torrents flood
Mountains will quake
Even as you salute the whipped breeze
And carry on as you did before me
Then, there was only a black void
And you can no longer hide
Death's "mirthless grin" is the shade.
(Is this poetry or just a bunch of bourgeois saccharin bullshit?)
copyright 2016 RJ McMurray
There is fiction. There is life. What is the difference?
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