starship

Your voice sounds like silver chariots,
sweeping my balcony,
cold in moonlight,
soft like the feathers
of your horses’ wings,
warm like red wine,
ancient like the end of time.
I don’t want to escape from it
the way I am driven from
all the noises
that echo through earthen
anthems.
I want to escape into your tenor majesty,
like a falsetto get-away car,
like a sun-streamed swing set,
like a wailing underground railroad,
like a quavering ocean wavelet.

111 Comments

            1. I don’t wanna leave this, but My Daughter just told me it’s my bedtime. I wonder if you two will go on all night. I’ll check first thing in the morning. Night Night.

  1. A little bit of joy escapes my lips every time I see one of your works of art pop up in the “reader” here in WP. Don’t stop being true to yourself! And I will never stop reading.

          1. Hah, good point there. Well, thank you for the fantastic writing, and as a side note: you have a beautiful singing voice to boot. I just saw your “shrinksarentcheap” FB page with a pleasant vocal number inviting me in for a listen. I hope you share some more of that as well! 🙂

      1. Your cloying hymn to some moron’s melodies is a prison camp itself. I want to be paroled from your illusion of musical godliness!

                  1. You’re correct again, lunatic, I’ll never see anything in your eyes because I’ll pluck them out of your head and fling them to the sky!

                    1. Oh, I’m raving, alright, but you’re the queen of Babel and I’ll topple your sun-strewn swingsets invoking my own wrath.

                    2. Nobody is innocent, certainly not you. Your poem about some magical songbird god is unpardonable.

                    3. They are in mine, and that’s all that matters, not your damned homily to a celestial bastard.

                    4. All I hear is symphonic doggerel dragging on in continuous trills. Jealous of what? A singing ghost? Are you at Disneyworld?

                    5. Oh, I have no doubt that he is yours, only yours, your delicious hallucination. I would want him to spurn him for spurring your desire to pipe about his melodic stool.

                    6. You can take that paper bag and show humanity a modicum of generosity and suffocate yourself with it!

                    7. I care if you live and die, life is agony and you don’t get the luxury of a passer-by.

                    8. You can make origami swans floating in tepid bathtub water, that’s the extent of your power.

                    9. Oh, is my harassment arousing you? I knew it! And my open sores are flecking your screen with by blood.

                    10. It would intoxicate you with moral insanity until you drive your car into the ocean singing to phantom ears.

  2. I’m sure, like iron nails screeching a chalkboard illustriousness. Oh, and he’s a god, like the ones you’re going to summon to kill me with? Wake up!

          1. Mortal glory is blasphemy if I’m following your deluded logic of piety correctly.Get it together, woman!

            1. Hurl yourself off the nearest bridge, no matter how many times it takes, drag yourself back up, your weight pressing on your broken legs until the fall makes it certain! Then you can find out about the gods for yourself.

              1. Oh, and I’m suppose you’ve survived this desperate attempt at immortality? I’d like to hurl you off a crag and watch you drown in foreign oceans. At least then, you have a 50/50 chance of divinity, right?

                    1. Apparently some pop-star’s silver tongue has power over you given your elaborate detail of his mellifluous flotsam. You are in thrall to detritus, how refreshing!

                    2. Pop-star, now that is something to scoff at. What does it matter to you, who worship nothing? Who stand in awe at no one but yourself, you practice incest with mirrors, vagrant!

                    3. No, I violate your gods in highway rest-stops and worship the torment that exudes from their bodies wracked!

                    4. If I’m a cockroach, you’re the mange of feral dogs and the lice of licentious trollops!

                    5. You’re cowardice incarnate without spleen,
                      the salt to all wounds,murder of marshal laws.

                    6. You’re the bile boiling from a communal latrine,
                      the screeching tedium of droning chainsaws.

                    7. you’re the bombination of mindless machine,
                      the carrion from which a vulture gnaws.

                    8. You’re everything base that exists to demean,
                      writhing in madness to my sadistic guffaws.

                    9. You are comical vomit in a freakshow scene,
                      clad in harlequin print and flaming bras.

                    10. You’re neither here nor there, only the between,
                      you are blisters and bane, humdrum bourgeois.

                    11. You’re the screams of children in perilous careens,
                      a song-dead bird gurgling turbid caws.

                    12. you’re everything undesirable, wretched, unclean,
                      a vassal to virtues and sex-slave to shahs.

  3. No voice sounds like silver chariots, whoever this “person” is is either a ghost or you are schizophrenic.

Love you, too

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