Gas

Cherry

By lenchenelf

Wed, 29 Oct 2014
  • 3175 reads
8 comments
 

It billows, dirty yellow between barbed entrenchments

drifts back and forth in gust of conversation, bellowed cant,

ranted dialectic and scant sense of shared future.

 

Left and right shape formless toxin as personal phantoms,

ghosts of ideology to choke the other, cloud reason, win

 

a war in no-mans-land, where we stand

eyes streaming, ballot paper in hand.

 

Certificate PG
Poem
Camera Obscura
Rant

Comments

Submitted by Bee on

Some nice rhymes in this. Atmospheric, and for me, slightly more true than surreal.

I like it.

 

Bee

Submitted by lenchenelf on

Very kind of you to read and comment Bee, perhaps there are several realities lying beneath ;)

best regards

Lena xx

 

 

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on

Great stuff, Lena. A feast of delicious imagery.

Tina

 

Submitted by lenchenelf on

Generous again Tina ,  much obliged. :)

Bestest

Lena xx

 

 

Submitted by torscot on

This sadly reminds me of the WW1 trenches when gas was used as a weapon.

Indiscriminate in its use as the wind follows no borders.

Regards.

ps   Nice to dip back and  read  your " Camera Obscura, Lacework tales etc

torscot

Submitted by lenchenelf on

Now then young Mr Torscot sir, I think you've got me. Several thoughts on barrage of what we receive in the way of 'truth', war, sense of agency, or lack of,  and suffrage etc. Bless you for reading through my mark making :)

best regards

Lena xx

 

Submitted by torscot on

"...Now then young Mr Torscot..."    Young I wish, but for making me feel seventeen again I have placed a bunch of cherries via  Simones Legacy   next to  "...De Beauvoir and a bacon sandwich..."

Kind regards

 

torscot

Submitted by lenchenelf on

...we might share a pint of something cheeky and a few thoughts on such and pork scratchings :)

very best wishes,

Lena xx