Two-faced lamp post… I smolder with night

Veranda : © g.s.koch

the lamp post

would burst its faces

this night, when

I’d wake up

from my sleep of haunted lights,

breaking this mirror

.

of night lights,

to be the gleam of

the mad moon,

the rife ruins,

of the past breathing in me

and sighing bright lights,

.

smoldering

this night into flames

of a fuel,

of an ache,

that which burns it all with me

into lights of night,

.

nothing left

but the acrid smell

of sly smoke,

of dying blocks,

spewing fumes of burned up night,

black with the lamp lights

.

For Bastet’s Shadorma Photo Prompt. And yes, I traveled the road of rhymes… I am a rule breaker. 😉 Hope that is alright.

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Bitter Grapes

“The higher the grapes, the bitter they are”-

she goes by the old age adage, satisfying herself

by imprinting her nature Pisces, pieced onto walls

of her mind’s eye, snickering through jaws shut

in a bearing where senility finds her, and she finds

me peculiarly reaching for the grapes, to be bitter

by the syrupiness of her cavalry, my adrenal state,

obtain the key, before she can spot and seize me

.

Image Artist: Nikita Veprikov

For MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge.