WHO HURT YOU for Janis Ian, At 17
It still cuts...
Windings of bindings
cross both of my eyes
Deprived of the light
I now fast.
From droplets of sorrows
my memory skies
Forgotten those storms
of our past.
The rulers of light
bending our sight
Convinced us the velvet vice night.
Would polish the chrome
of the rivulets that roam
down the orphan cheeks
shivering in fright.
Tied to the spired
railway tracks in my mind
I fear ominous storms
from afar.
Train tattooed skins.
Food scraps in crow bins.
Deep cravings
for just one more scar.
Wakes to the day
Sepsis soul on the dew
of the bilge stones
That hail hells homes.
My lingering clue
Through my cataract view
Are the ghosts
seeking dead hearts
to Roam..
Pain that cuts deep
Like the boning room blades
Familiar those slaughter room floors.
Only you could reside
'neath the ink on my hide
As your showgirls
surf clouds to my shores..
Singing wet words
loves parched painted lips
The truth of them
cleaves me in two.
I know every rusty
re-used sharps bin word
The same ones
that deeply cut you.
Disfigured faces
strips blood bandaged laces
Familiar burnt forests
for eyes
Sold all that I own
for the sad songs you'd sown
Was I simply
just buying my own lies.
Never we know
The mind of the other
untamed cage fed tossed
scraps of meat
On far away moons
I shadowed you tunes
Then found you
and prayed at your feet..
Poem by tonys moonbase1
Courtesy Filigree Publishing
@tyme @PeppyPatti @Glisten @Shaz51 @Appleblossom @Former-Member @Historylover @TAB @StuF @saturnzoon @Meowmy @Oaktree @RiverSeal @ENKELI @Doldip15 @EternalFlower @greenpea @Former-Member @Jynx @MermaidHair @Emelia8
