poem, Poems, poet, Poetry, Prose

Crimson Honey

honey

Cynical in silence slaps the twilight

problems dance like fireflies in wind

a rueful play on words

crashing into inner soul

a mellow vision simmers in the summer heat

impractical in its own way

reminiscent of mistakes drawn from the deck

clouded mind fumbling thoughts of despair

the love on the way-side; stays hidden

waiting blindly for an answer

languid with rigorous activity

disperse the dream into many days

castles crumble into ruined bones

crystal lake turned to stagnant pools

and shadow clings to it all

lapse into unconscious chatter

about what may have caused the downfall

of the doorways

fortitude found inside the woman of jade

crimson honey runs from the scar

tinsel martyr sings for the lion

futile exodus from hell

it surrounds you

some mountains are unconquerable

escape is the near-sighted jest

encapsulating all of your options

meditate on life and draw your own conclusion

I have mine

she castrates our clemency

above and so bow down

strange worlds align to fight

severe the adverse slight

exit the lighted garden and

sink into primitive sleep

dwelling in black jungles deep

homicidal brain division

cross seas of mass confusion

toward a jewel flawed by teeth

whispers cut jagged into my beliefs

the hounds define my place

crimson honey on the palate

learn to hate the taste

30 thoughts on “Crimson Honey”

  1. what was that seventies pop delight? love stinks? the last line of yours” learn to hate the taste” sure does make me laugh to think how the other popped to mind. to know of the sweetness of longing yes, but to endure those other times cranky pants all oscaring about grouchy that something didn’t get communicated in a meaningful thus remembered way and this or proof worse it was never communicated at all and now troubles…. hurt feelings. remembered forever as in you yelled at me tuesday january sixteenth 43 years ago and now we’re going to cover why I’m wrong? woo hoo…not ah

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Thank you and thanks for reading. I know, with our minds constantly being stimulated it always feels like we are exhausted despite perhaps not even being very active. It’s a crazy world. I appreciate your comment.

      Liked by 2 people

      Reply

      1. Haha seriously, we’re in a bar at the beach (back in Australia now) watching the Superbowl, and I’m reading my beloved poets, and I’ve now ordered a coffee! Haha. It’s delicious, thank you. Cheers!

        Liked by 1 person

      1. I really do! It’s a great one for sure! I love your writing style and this is a prime example of why it is so hard-hitting ❤

        Liked by 1 person

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