Cherry Pie

 

By and by,

sweet as cherry pie

as it curdles in the soul

as it rolls 

tenaciously 

sly...


On your tongue

so tart,

better than kitschy art ,

better than saying goodbye.

So you stay 

warm and dry

with cherry pie...

but it's wrought

while it rots

deeper and deeper

inside


while the silky, fluffy clouds

dress suspension of time

with a layer of

sublime


reaching,

reaching

for the rhyme

and the meaning

in the wind chimes 

that whisper

with the plight

that whisper in

the morning -

in the morning of the nigh ...


And as the clock ticks well beyond

midnight,

there's the tartness on your plate.

But alas,

it's just the bait

for the discordance

of late

unto late

unto late

until it’s too late.


And the fog that fails to lift

in the dauntingly, naively

hopeful abyss,

you know something is amiss.


Throw the plate.

Throw the fork

in this

for it really isn't bliss.

No, it really isn't bliss...


No, not cherry pie

full of cheap whey,

full of dye

that ladens over

for in which

under you lie.


But it must be where you lay.

Get up and

get away.

Reach with inner foundation

for a different kind 

of day,

for a different kind

of way.


2015


Enjoy reading Purple Ashes In the Sky on Blogger and consider

supporting the book via purchase or donating to my Go Fund Me.

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