Tag Archives: bag

Truth

What good is an open book?

The cat out of the bag?

The un-clenched fist;

The revealed secret…

Divulged, truth dies

A hasty death…

Often with no meaning

And always without love.

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Ice gone dry

A bag full of words were never enough

To fill the lines of my notebook

I need to know the secrets of stifled laughter

The tears that flee at the brush of a hand

The voices that ring with fervour

And the anger that burnt an entire city bare

 

These words I have lack in flesh and blood

I’d like to discard them, but 

Not even the vultures will seek them

I need a device to pump life into them

To drill their reluctant innards 

To scoop their filth and fill them with 

An overflowing light.

Light that is smoky like ice gone dry

So cold, that they burn a hole 

Through the minds that read them.