• braithan 6w

    On the smell of white Elephant bones

    A Bee sits next to an Owl
    And between them, hypocrisy.
    Disemboweled vowels unravelled vows
    Brimming with the vanity of medals
    (But not those of laureates)
    And white handles that jerk at door knobs for heroines that love to loathe it.

    Astute students of attitudes
    With their acumens of shrewdness.
    This primitive intellectual love
    Of chisseled smiles scraped to the skin
    Where a morose whiteness resides.
    Along with fugue
    And corrective contradictions
    That rip at the flesh of poems
    That asked for hugs
    And got rewritten for plastic aesthetics

    The poetry of it all.
    A forgotten yesteryear
    An enormus elephant graveyard.
    Within its tombs are the broken wings and crumbling feathers of Angels that seized to exist.
    But bestial creatures in deserts live on
    Eating at their own bitter hearts.
    The spillage;
    Ant infested blood clots.
    And the hickeys we left on our aortas.
    All thats left is the red of it all.
    And it isnt blushing
    Its an avalanche of tears.
    ┬ębraithan