Black Roses

Significant mutant poet in empathy

Darkening shadows in a complex sympathy

Death and death black roses on the casket

Cascading of redness of a has been dramatic addict.

The green life in its common sense

Stems from heat and grows through concrete

This poet said:

“If I live a lie then lies I will always live.

Contradiction fuels my addiction to

blame it on the vain and the tenacity.

Far from perfect although if asked

I just might be for the perfect reason

And a perfect time.

How often do we hear to live well…

…and well some of us inject ourselves

with this disease that binds us to this

atomic, toxic, methane polluted terra firma

and we are loyal to the thing called earth?

The land that poisons our body

And taints the soul.

I am Captain, My Captain…self righteously

My loyalty is to thee, my faith, meta-physics

And the love God gave to me.

If you’re measurable then don’t be.

Let your mind flow with infinite probabilities.”

Says; Lovinia.

Wandering awake in my head,

Watering roses just to keep them alive

Long enough to be dead.

Only real pleasure is pricking your finger

Watching yourself bleed, it just became symbolic

Rows of roses and the sun eventually kills

The air sucks their purpose to fragrant the world.

After a few days wilts a rose

that has the battle of the elements but wears its proudly.

For the black rose accomplished it natural duty

And a rose it will always be in this poets writing…

…she request black roses

as a constant reminder of the life of a rose,

tragic right from the dirt it was forced to

live in, grown in and die in.

...to be cont...