Wednesday, October 13, 2010

The secret of the death of dusk

Poem by Marc Aupiais

Flashes of light,
Turn to sights.

Like a small string,
Light sprinkles and splatters,
Beautiful but dead.

Red, murky bright blue and purple,
Death throws of light.

I lie and moan, and groan.
Anger again takes to a race,
From my mind and heart,
My soul! Anger swells, swirls,

And the tears drop from my soul's heart!

I look down at you baby girl, as though dreamt on my form,
And my anger!
Where is it?
I feel insecure!

I know my enemy,
And I cry!

And I do nothing,
But love and weep!

I wish my death,
Yet then you do too,
Ask to join me!
And I can't and don't.

And I lie here,

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