My Silent Forest

Posted: April 8, 2014 in Poetry
Tags:

They tell a good story

Talk a lot, forget

…but I remember

Seeing either the back of her

Or the back of his hand

Never good looks at the face

Be no fair trial for them

Police sketch I/ll trace

I am awake

Still see the pictures hanging

Feel them staring down on me

Cool air so clean, so quiet

Simply deceiving

Hidden horror the fans echo

Listening; knowing sleep/d be soon

& that stale room

Memory loom

I am awake

Remember being strapped down

A room with no windows

Other than one on the door

Covered with a piece of paper

Blank & taped &

Secured from other side

A doctor finally came

Had a real colorful tie

I am awake

The fever that builds & burns

Everything; incinerating

Anything, in its wake

Can not speak its name

Once exorcised

Its reach is legion

A mighty foe I/ve made

Fear gives it reasons

I am awake

Anxiety crashing from crescendo

Living, running, knowing

Any moment may be the last

Breath breathed freely

Streets are never far behind

But you can/t stop

The power of Christ compels you

Better off in a padded room

Nothing but time to think it through

I am awake

The concrete madness

Of thieves & rapists & murderers

& a guy that tried

To staple children to the floor

A horror show where everyone is a maestro;

A virtuoso; connoisseur of the cuisine

Friendships reduced to potato chips

Where all there is, is a dream

I am awake

To those sad faces we lost

Forever slipped through sands of time

For it all to be so simple

Just getting what you give

Bodies demised, bruised & riddled

Rendered memories in sacristies

Some do not live

Only here to take

But now we are awake…

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