Silent Night

Old Jones,
Shakes asleep.
Sweats from the drink.
The bones rattle to make heat.
Pressure from the streets
Feed the breed.
New hate.
Old hope.
No home.
Forgotten.
Dreams alone.
So cold…

©Carlson, 2015

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Gentle into the Goodnight

The alter it splits
The Cantankerous spit
From those unthankable Gods.
Chipped and Stripped, the colorful shifts
She cries and says goodbye.

Its cold when it hits;
The solemn call from the Devine.
All she’s left with is the warmth of her broken black wings.
Her sad wings…
Wings that have always carried her…Alone.

Gifts from the crooked host; the ones thought to have been tossed and lost, were never forgotten but treasured by her.
Hope is for the fallen who have already lost. Forgiven sins…
Doesn’t exist. All thats left is love,
Power and Drugs.

Her ghost weeps with a whisper.
The flames give a flicker, as she watches the smoke give thanks to the unflankable sky.
Her heart breaks gently. Then aches into the gentle goodnight.

© Carlson, 2015