Sister – Olde Punk

– sister

Sensations allowing migrating figures to justify the atrocities that follow in the wake of the beast that dwells in the heart of a man who smiles, takes your hand, makes monolithic promises then tears at those things that are valued by those of us who are powerless rulers of a carefully disguised brothel where makeshift occupations keep you mundane and weak and afraid of those who are aware that life is more than toiling in exchange for paper to in turn barter it for air and water and shelter, things that are necessary to survive yet we are forced to strive in a greying hell that makes the demons fat and they molest the angels’ dog’s feelings causing a conversation on theology between ignorant deified bigots over a game of chess…..

we forgot about retributions

and neglected to court them

however, do not feel as though

we savored your loss

after, the taste of the air was unusual

and I found it not pleasing at all

queer gestures harangue the faces

that manifest out of misty mornings

while we await answers from those

who pretend they are ignorant

of the crimes they have perpetrated

O Lord Almighty

observe that blissful naiveté

when did we lose ours?

companions cure the irritations

that accompany the finale

of your fantasy

you beautiful bastard, your sister

walks into perfected ruin orchestrated by your own hands

peace in pieces pleasing none of us

shine the tiger light into my void

respect what you may find there

for it is fragile.

To await nothing is to be eternally patient

Author: oldepunk

Writing about my views of the world in a stream of conscience style

15 thoughts on “Sister – Olde Punk”

  1. I always wish I could hear you read your pieces out loud. I love the rhythm and the urgency you build in the prose before slowing it down. This will stay with me today: “you beautiful bastard, your sister
    walks into perfected ruin orchestrated by your own hands
    peace in pieces pleasing none of us”

    Beautifully done as always

    Liked by 2 people

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