Like unto like electric
is a litmus test of attraction
for what bleeds best
together
Angels and Aliens/Brothers and Sisters of The Wound
I moan to thee:
we are all slaves to many systems
Knowing the game of life is simply an illusion
doesn’t help in breaking its spell
I have seen the way these dice are cast
You read the tea leaves
covering my eyes
while they were resting
Even if you catch two breaths
from the divine giving tree
at the same time
how much luckier still
should we ever learn the truth
that all these pretty colors
are fated to fall
returning dust to the soil
from which it was sourced
so here are my ashes and bones for the altar
here is my worship of all your good charm
here is my music hung in the air
dancing with ghosts as they howl
the wind is magnetic
radar and echo
reverb
static pulsing
through the hum
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortabl. sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at [email protected].
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