Monday, September 7, 2009

Patrick Thomas Jeffries

HER (I) & 9 LIVES

Death losing breath comes with neither goodbye nor wave
Dreaming, One’s eternal narcotic nod Love’s roots are grave
Brave broad storm on; defiant Sol stir it up
Feeling your depth rising resurrected from your coffee cup
Form invisible too real to touch now G-d permeate
Ghostly kiss from your lust bruised lips Passion’s taste
DNA twisting; like crossing stars that portended our Fate
Old wars insults suspended upended washing away blood stains
Wise wailings remorseful tears now joyful; come cleansing rains
Fire-sparked in the dark igniting Nietzsche’s (I); nine lives—

1 comment:

  1. Rather stream-of-consciousness, almost "language poetry", yet somehow effective in its dark mood.

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