Molten blue to navy curs’d
shades of melancholy,
unquenched thirst in barren scape,
soul’s monumental folly.
Bitter sharp the poison bites
‘neath escarpment’s hidden ruins,
assailed around, entwisted fate,
chthonic anthem choose,
hybrid self above the earth
or true to one beneath,
bore terrain, bail debris found,
blowout, chained release.
There is real power in this poem, and I get a sense of frustration bordering on angst. Well written!
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Thanks, Chris. Definitely some of that there. Words with my gang! Makes for frustration at times. It was either this or a full-blown rant. 😉 x
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Now you’re just showing off….
I’m getting better at this poetry understanding stuff I think.
I had to look up ‘chthonic’!
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lol I had to look it up too when I first encountered it. 🙂 One of those ones I liked so learned.x
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