broken-OldePunk/RamJet Poetry

BY OLDEPUNK broken
some of us are just broken
born of dust and little disappointments
bleak barrow bones and lamented jewels
made of helpless tears and midnight fears
saltpeter and cobwebs, nickel and newt
lost toys that cost joy
cast of glass and weakness
the forlorn reborn in submission
forced into place even when
the pieces never fit
a cross-threaded screw
muck on the sandal of a forgotten god
a chewed up pen
dull pencil with no eraser
primer painted wagon
with busted wheels
many things of little use
an alchemical composition
turning gold to lead,crack and peel
the Narcissist stone!
you do not understand
as the dead envy the living, so
do the broken hate the anointed, you
as i hate you
as I hate myself
the chipped stone defacing a masterpiece
mold on the Monet
dry rot in the wall
asbestos in the halls
toxic relations and divorces
aria of dissonant discourses
some of us are just broken
one of the unchosen
I am the name it always hurts to say
the reflected shadow at the window pane
you will recall we just were
not the same
the broken one will eat the blame
cherry wood ashes and goat’s hair
shell casings and a hangman’s prayer
the puzzle with the missing pieces
a chill wind that never ceases
bitter pills and wounded pride
all of the shit you try to hide
the hateful words that were spoken
these are the desolate ways
 
we are broken 

Author: Sudden Denouement

A Literary Collective

32 thoughts on “broken-OldePunk/RamJet Poetry”

  1. My god, man. This poem transcends its own words. You have hit me with some next level awakening business with this piece. outfknstanding work, my friend. It is my absolute pleasure to share this piece.

    I can’t even quote a specific line in this, it’s all just brilliant.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I agree with B&R about that line, and I see you do too as you made it jump. What a thing humility is, seemingly driving us ever deeper into the muddy earth. I like to believe everything I learn from spiritual life about brokenness being virtuous, but most often I see what you portray here, the lament of what we could have been but are not. Well done.

    Liked by 2 people

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