Colosseum Dust

They remove temptation,
the big, ever present, they,
the ones that watch,
vicarious vultures,
soul sucked through sex,
expectation's loosely vexed,
their beady jaundiced eyes,
drinking life from stranded cups,
washed upon forgotten shores,
distant and inviting,
far from the falsely adverse,
free from their jealousy,
wailed as a child's make  believe shock...

All so scurrilous and scandalous,
they'd dribble if they could,
but their nature forged an ugly cage,
a petty puritan's plastic smile,
all he wants he shall revile,
a thirst born of lack life dust,
parched of love and blood and lust,
they fear to walk the arena,
Colosseum of society,
cum stained seats of cinema piety,
burning piles of red tape lies,
to light the way of vapid collapse,
a flickering screen of arse prolapse,
as the apocalypse unfurls within steamy walls,
money, saliva, cunts and balls,
sail seamen sail...

In collusion with the night,
away from this shore of loved hated delight,
walk with anger's purpose until the blood has bled,
to be lost, alone, as good as dead,
head buried in the sands of dark forest depth,
forget me, so I can forget myself,
forget you,
forget the world of people,
forget the anger beneath  minaret  and steeple,
forget facades,
forget  to forget,
forget,
and see the truth of existence,
burning bright against social insistence,
just forget,
for now,
for life,
for growth,
for memory to make sense,
for the future...











©David Nickle Read 2015

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