The sound of burning cellos

The sound of burning cellos

14 January 2016

Courtesy theupwardspiralmovement.com

 

There are lies

Carved in cider’s sweet

I drink them

Wasps’ honey

Bittersweet mind’s inventions

Parched throat cries in thirst

 

We believe

Hope a block of tar

Feathers white

The glue blue

Shadows slinking out of town

As the laugh peals shrill

 

There are dreams

Deconstructed stark

In moonlight

Indifferent

Cynicism a way of life

Tongues sharper than knives

 

There is truth

Hidden in disgrace

Squandered light

Death of swans

Don Quichotte young Juan

While flames await high

 

There is mind

Impenetrable

Logic stained

Fire-struck bleak

Winding its way through boxes

Moving is habit

 

There is heart

Between moon and sun

Dragons beat

Death and stars

Sixteen to nine inches splashed

In your face lurching

 

There is past

Lurking in the light

Blind pathways

Hidden stairs

Rungs of clues leading nowhere

Where angels exhale

 

There is now

Accumulation

Tight flashbacks

Threaded pins

Holding seams that disappear

When bodies dilate

 

There will be

Tomorrow’s ventures

Green valleys

Sunshine’s kiss

The sound of burning cellos

Flying through my spine

 

Reading of the poem: 

Courtesy ebassist.com

Desolation – Adam Hurst

Death Waltz – Adam Hurst

Seven Veils – Adam Hurst

Wake – Adam Hurst