Monday, July 11, 2011

Boneyard


Confined to the head and vain under glass, I wish I could trust that my armour would last; hold up against the onslaught of days where each piece of knowledge is a chip or a fall from somebody’s definition of grace.

Keep a cool head they all say, keep your heart off your sleeve - but the trumpets that blow aren’t mine (I can’t blow ‘em) filled as I am with resentful self-doubt perverse and purgatorial – keep your cards to your chest and your eyes on the prize, keep your own council in the kingdom of lies.

Confined to the headland, beacon windows, frosted glass, the reef bares its teeth to unsuspecting hull while the keeper of light causes the coastline to cast its good eye to the night and wonders what the tide will cast up on morning’s return.

5 comments:

Letitia Coyne said...

"keep your cards to your chest and your eyes on the prize, keep your own council in the kingdom of lies."

Sound advice. Adieu.
Lxx

designing wally said...

Hope vs. Hope

Living it.

Perhaps tomorrow the tide will have thrown us a nice juicy fish or a lamp with a genie...

Pisces Iscariot said...

Letitia: adieu 2 u 2 :]

DeeDubya: easy with the fish - we don't enjoy dry land too much :D

Harlequin said...

the image and the word play were both quite evocative
i liked how the words kind of pull each other along and how you have that sneaky internal rhyme...
what a nice piece!

Pisces Iscariot said...

harlequin: these pieces usually come from dark places - that's why I do them :)