Fire Engine Red

Posted: July 11, 2012 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , ,

Raining ash
for forty days.
Everything’s on fire and
you, with your small words
like “god” and “hope”,
beg to be burnt
to a cinder.

Smoky skies;
days dark with
spent embers from
mountains blazing
with raw fury;
anger,
a question,
answered in flame.

Even futility
is useless
against this towering rage.
The world is aflame.

Hope,
like love,
is a dirty word.
It gives you faith in
nothing and

you, with your petty dreams,
small words
bleeding dry to white spit,
at the corners
of your parched mouth,
are insignificant.

In the face of nature’s wrath.
you are nothing.
No one.

Your words
are sounds
coughed up by
dying animals.

Everyone protests
that last, great
blast of
life.

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Comments
  1. bluebee says:

    “you, with your small words
    like “god” and “hope”,” – small words in times of crisis can certainly inflame, rather than placate

  2. Karla says:

    Love this, thanks for sharing.

  3. Steve says:

    Powerful stuff – one of my favourites so far m’dear 🙂

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