Dark city

Smell of night, mumble-pawed, teary and sorry
Drifting into a cupboard of chairs, food, dishes;
Patrons unloosing their jaws for a meal,
Mouth after mouth to a purpose;
In-between a smile, etherizing their square white heads.

A curtain of neon-lights exhausting the dark,
Hunting the shadows while quietly humming;
A colorful veil that molds to its face,
Its mind is searching, the moon is no door.
The noble gases bury it like a wounded knee.

At the dead end, the pushers bonging on their white sticks,
Tremulous death at the end of the line for a user;
Their lives are snapped out of breath like a dead eyelid.
Black veils on a family smell so sick;
Here they come in their hysterical hearses.

The night will not be got rid of, it closes the old day chambers
And the gullible sun-heads shaking hands with the long horizon;
It is dark weed silk, and the blind will not notice,
Yet, they will take off their veils tacked to their pupils;
Everybody is nodding a square black head.

dark city

44 comments on “Dark city

  1. That was like a ramble through your mind!

  2. beatrice841129783 says:

    Magnifique écrit un voyage à travers vous

  3. Susi Bocks says:

    Nice! How’s the book coming, Lance?

  4. I love how you tie together words that one would never assume belong together and yet they dance blissfully in rhythm when you match them up. ( I will forever think of the sun now as gullible when I awaken.) You are a truly gifted poet. It is a delight to read your work. I wish I were still teaching. I’d make an entire lesson out of this piece. It’s quitewonderful! Bravo!

  5. ssfrerking says:

    So darkly beckoning, like a nightmare following you.

  6. MOMENTS says:

    Beautiful piece with this dark imagery so typical of your poetry, Lance. I like how you describe such hostile environments and the people moving around. You have a special ability to combine words so different from one another creating powerful imagery, connecting the human senses with the elements of nature (“smell of night”) and personifying these elements, also death (“tremulous death”). This line reminds me of T.S.Eliot’s poems: “In-between a smile, etherizing their square white heads”. And I love this: “the gullible sun-heads shaking hands with the long horizon”.

  7. rabirius says:

    Amazing, how you create an atmosphere with words here.

  8. Beautiful indeed! That building is the most intriguing and unique structure I have come to face (if it’s the flat iron building).

  9. norise says:

    piace come scrivi!

  10. Great, you write cool things!

  11. It’s an ordinary day in Gotham City, where no color survives except the singeing neon flares—completely natural, yet unable to bond. Not even the light of the icy moon can provide hope for the people of this city… so they turn to other methods- methods which end up getting one killed

    … yet that is to be expected in this bleak, demised city of gloom-

    That was some amazing imagery, once again~ The graphic you chose to accompany your words only enhances my ability to see what’s happening! Fantastic work~

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