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SubscriptionsSites I Read
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| Every Last Frog
Your tongue tastes tarmac
smeared from your elongated torso, coated in fear
wasting in darkness.
You were the lucky one. The simple one.
Finished now. Simple now.
Your skin peels, your spines revealed
each piece to fill its void
now, evermore.
And as they pass you by, no tears are cried
Fortuna’s hand was played
the pendulum still sways.
D.Quinn©
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| Come with me Love, please take my hand
your time has come Love, and now we stand
far from pain Love, where the world is at peace
where you can rest Love, with the joy you released
to those you met Love, and each smile you bestowed
your light will shine Love, as they continue to grow
until their bloom Love, and you call them home
may you rest in peace Love, and never be alone.
D.Quinn
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| Northern Hills
Endless waves of lifeless wind
Tickle, with skeletal bones
A barren shore
Of corroded stones, and lifeless tones
Where life lives no more.
And there,
As a single star on a clouded night
A beacon of ivory bones
Amongst years of ravenous abuses
The nerve to stand
Firmly, with arms spread wide
Impervious to gravity and crystallized winds
Holding memories
Of a life in flesh and breath
Where light offered hope
To warmed these bones.
But still,
These pallid bones
So far removed from home
Stave the fade of time
For one more chance
To be warm again.
D.Quinn ©
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| This technology I cannot explain. You wouldn't understand anyway; I will not bore you. Here, after some years, I am worn. "Old" they say, yet I don't feel it. It seems we have been created to serve a purpose. The greater good they claim. When our purpose is served, then we wind up here. Here is where I am. I would tell you more, but I do not know more. What I do know is I am in line for incineration. What I do not know is what incineration means. In front of me is the pasty white skin and long brown hair that adorns all females. In front of her is the slightly tanned skin and hair of a male. His parts appear awfully similar to mine. We are the same height. The same build. I cannot see his face, but I have seen a males face before. I assume I look like him. I assume we all look like him. I assume a lot. It seems deduction is a byproduct of humanness. So here I am, standing in line. (1) | | |
| Capitalism The wisp of leaves, a song of trees, curve a shore a wanderer asks, “is there more?” His eyes are glazed, with summer’s haze, a sordid grip he stands alone his tears drip. There, amongst trees, where breath is free, a songbird groans this commercial world, “I’ll leave it alone”. But, They are his friends Or so it seems, this clever world Leave it alone They’ll let you dream. Dream of melodic waves, mundane days, and what is to be tumble on leaf leave humanness to me. D.Quinn© | | |
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