Tags
2012, 9*, city, compassion, fear, identity, life, lifetimes, living room, love, pain, prayer, question, reading, silence, sky, space, superhero, Victorian houses, voices, walls, windows, Woolwich, words
Woolwich Central – making life better II
passing the gothic Victorian house pointing
skywards in all directions partitioned to
so many living rooms I know how much
I cannot be the superhero to the voice
sustained in high-register and edge of fear
let alone for the silent voice that sits by the
hollow wall under the table; can I rend
those walls asunder and pike the onslaught
with a single glance deep into the whorl
of flinch and recoil of a lifetime of no register?
can I scoop up the silence and hold it foetal
forever safe from division before the window?
can I?
spell:–
may the pain of scream and the silence
of numb build the very thirteen floors of
open-plan living in the centre of the city that
they never quite found when they committed
their lives together for life and may all the fear
and cower magnify transparent exponential
to the tangle that pulls it all tight into its own
relief – the space forever at its heart as the
space between these words that allows them to be read
thank you
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
city wormhole: city twilight
compassion wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich 121114
identity wormhole: just words wiped across a line
life & lifetimes & love & reading & sky & space & walls wormhole: 1959 –– MANHATTAN –– 2012
living room wormhole: tag cloud poem VIII – growth
silence wormhole: ‘the walking stick …’
superhero wormhole: amid
Victorian houses & Woolwich wormhole: Plumstead – Woolwich – Plumstead 290508 – / the breath of London
voices wormhole: new year’s eve 2014; train up to London to / walk the bridges across the Thames, and / listen to the voices say it is, and was, like, / but get back home before the fireworks / obliterate it all in the emptying twilight
windows wormhole: 1977
words wormhole: career came to naught …
M. I loved the energy in this and the images though tangible when strung together created a surrealism that did not go into outer space. I thought the poem fairly tight yet filled with fight and flight. Oddly enough I liked the ‘thank you’ at the end which I surmised was part of the poem. Smiles…>KB
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oh, yes; you were fully part of the poem by reading it; all part of casting the spell … thank you
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Reblogged this on A Mirror Obscura, and commented:
An excellent poem one must read through again and again to really savor the essence of its worth…>KB
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aha, the spell is working; namaste!
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