it is time for empires to fall

[The Wanderer]

too many varieties
in my blood

to make sense
of your tongues

and why it,
hesitates

down my spine
with your indelible hiss

to a semiotic hum, on
electro-magnetic lips

a rose garden sky
spilled upon summer's nose

and the gravity breath
eating away at autumn's colour,

like greedy smoke
lapping up blue skies

it is time
for empires to fall

and slow down youth fashions
with your post-op limbo

as the wax-like surgeons,
with their life-support vision

and the daughters of fascists,
sweep up the bones of inquisition

and they prop you up for the war
kiss away, sweet sphinxette

with the holy resurrection
drive the spikes, deeper

into the baptism of faith
with a hand you once draped

silently over peace
limping to a ghastly heap

it is time
for empires to fall

[blah, this is still a disaster, but I'm done with it]

 

[foray]

Wanderer! I have much to say about this. Later. For now, I'll just say that it's wonderful, even its form there is a wave-like flow that correlates very well with your poem.

foray

 

[Bonochick]

I was going to quote a couple lines that I particularly enjoyed, but there ended up being too many of them. Very nice, Wanderer!

 

[famous rungi]

to a semiotic hum, on
electro-magnetic lips

a rose garden sky
spilled upon summer's nose

and the gravity breath
eating away at autumn's colour,

like greedy smoke
lapping up blue skies

Those are great lines, mate. Their appearance in the context is surprising. "post-op limbo" "wax-like surgeons" "limping to a ghastly heap" --all nice gems.

foray

 

[The Wanderer]

wow, thanks

I struggled a lot with the syntax of this, it left me a bit frayed *ahem* by the time I finished and posted it