Tears Scorn Cold

Chill
so grave,
it shatters
The heart
liquid matter
Dry ice
cycles,
frigid shards
Frozen mid
grains of time

Frost bite
fork
sliver shivers
Nowhere to turn,
or move around
Petrified pawn,
putrefied perished
Awaiting death
door to knock

Knocks on,
would have
become
Could have
 been this,
that sign
Should have
been here,
there sigh
Womb room tomb,
living knot
exist

Tenses,
wails a lone
Banshee chill cry
Medusa
freezes vocal
umbilical chords
Mid echo
still silence,
a Wake
of sorts
Hearing dye
own eulogy,
“Dave’s not here.”

Not here,
there,
not dead;
Bare lay breathing
Fetal
prone position,
inside
womb tomb room
“Thank You For Your Service,”
depressed sheet
Expendable pawn played,
preying the Chest Game.

Born at the wrong time,
one graduates
into Vietnam
Called conflict;
like Russian
special military operation
That the world
knows as War
that quick accumulates
Body bags
tossed around piles,
be human
cost to Zar.

Oh God,
got the blues
chill quivers,
of Cain killed Abel
Hitler killed Jews,
Stalin killed Nazi’s,
Putin killing Nazi’s
Where hate
creates a label
to justify
RIGHTeous  invasion
Why,
oh why,
do we put
God name in
Vein of War
atrocity.

Room be,
thy tomb,
be thy womb,
fetal Poetic position
Prone to Veteran
evaporated feelings
stuff in coffin box
Enclosure,
where the years,
bears scars,
wounded over
And over
in a
womb room tomb
where:
Tears Scorn Cold

(Working Pieces,
Rest In Peace)

HeArtMosphere Poet

Tears Scorn Cold

Chill so grave, it shatters
The heart liquid matter
Dry ice cycles, frigid shards
Frozen mid grains of time

Frost bite fork sliver shivers
Nowhere to turn, or move around
Petrified pawn, putrefied perished
Awaiting death door to knock

Knocks on, would have become
Could have been this, that sign
Should have been here, there sigh
Womb room tomb, living knot exist

Tenses, wails a lone Banshee chill cry
Medusa freezes vocal umbilical chords
Mid echo still silence, a Wake of sorts
Hearing dye own eulogy, “Dave’s not here.”

Not here, there, not dead; Bare lay breathing
Fetal prone position, inside womb tomb room
“Thank You For Your Service,” depressed sheet
Expendable pawn played, preying the Chest Game.

Born at the wrong time, one graduates into Vietnam
Called conflict; like Russian special military operation
That the world knows as War that quick accumulates
Body bags tossed around piles, be human cost to Zar.

Oh God, got the blues chill quivers, of Cain killed Abel
Hitler killed Jews, Stalin killed Nazi’s, Putin killing Nazi’s
Where hate creates a label to justify RIGHTeous  invasion
Why, oh why, do we put God name in Vein of War atrocity.

Room be, thy tomb, be thy womb, fetal Poetic position
Prone to Veteran evaporated feelings stuff in coffin box
Enclosure, where the years, bears scars, wounded over
And over in a womb room tomb where: Tears Scorn Cold

(Working Pieces, Rest In Peace)

HeArtMosphere Poet