You ever just get a line
That you think needs a poem?
Lines to wrap around it
Stanza struts to raise it –
But the line burns up anything that even comes close?
Like flames that threaten to scorch a carpet
Licking away an image.
A futile attempt to purge –
You can’t burn it away, child
History should have taught you that.
Like waves lashing weed onto the sands
Beached strands exposed
You can’t wash it away, love
Shakespearian tragedy should have taught you that.
And yet we built and built
Raised and raized
Empires of infactuation from dusk to dawn and dawn to dusk to dust.
Youth’s heart aching lust.
Domino rally head turns
Shots knocked back
Strobe lights: music rifts
Garish glistening monoliths
of empires
Which we, blinded, assailed
To fallfly Icaruses burnt as they –
As all – empires crumble
Tumbling us with them
To begin again…
Empires and empires of infactuation
Numerous as our teenage years
Grazed and bruised
Tears balmed us as we set off to buildfall once more –
A smile: started yet another decimation
in our wakewalk to adulthood.
Bystanding by.
Are you finished yet?
I’ve been waiting a long time
To witness you build
On foundations strong
Raised on your own stanza struts
Lines robust enough
To hold
Your Empire of You.