but it’s no good,
the secret out,
and I am on my knees.
what I say is holy,
holier than the tomes of great men
whose bodies are dust;
I can no longer blow them for good graces
except by exhale,
head buried to the lap
of dead gods turned to ash.
words of a people aligned in their perfect order
but it’s no good,
the secret out,
and I am on my knees.
what I say is holy,
holier than the tomes of great men
whose bodies are dust;
I can no longer blow them for good graces
except by exhale,
head buried to the lap
of dead gods turned to ash.
Posted on May 13, 2013 at 4:09 pm in Poetry, Short poem | RSS feed | Reply | Trackback URL
Emotional and thought provoking! Pete
Whenever I read your poetry it makes me miss writing , but the words are just not there..
love this poem Jhon..very emotive for sure.
This is good Jhon!
The last line is not one I’ll forget anytime soon.
head buried to the lap
of dead gods turned to ash.