Ghetto of Dreams
No one but me goes to the boardwalk anymore.
The carousel, once a gilded jewel, is
warped in the despair of neglect
owned by
homeless broken hearts.
The carousel, once a gilded jewel, is
now a
ghetto of dreams fading in the twilight
owned by homeless broken hearts.
The place I feel most at home.
Now a ghetto of dreams fading in the twilight,
I climb onto a weathered stallion,
the place I feel most at home,
a ghost living in the shadow of yesterday.
I climb onto a weathered stallion
warped in the
despair
of neglect,
a ghost living in the shadow of yesterday.
No one but me goes to the boardwalk anymore.
pyramid scheme
dizzied by
the crumbling world and
my crumbling
life my hand
shakes involuntarily
spilling this morning’s
bitter brew
on my last pair of
clean jeans no
matter i
have no place to go and no
one will be coming
to see me
it’s a lockdown life
most days the
only voice
i hear is the one in my
head mumbling fractured
thoughts that non
sequitur into
pyramids
of sorrow
built on sand and the bones of
a dream that died in
a blizzard
of unofficial
business gone
wrong buried
in the official silence
of bureaucracy
someday when
the reaper’s gone and
life’s back to
whatever
normal is it won’t be much
different for me
anyway
oh sure i’ll see more
people and
get out some
but the only face i want
to see the only
voice i want
to hear will still be
entombed in
the desert of
my mind pyramids are built
to last forever
aftermath
when traitors bagged you in paperwork and chains
leaving you to fade into the stone wall of memory
blood soaked stars fell to earth as the moon wept silver
tears
that coated me with salt and disbelief
mary and joseph got divorced and the saviour took the red eye to the coast
priests closed the confessionals and sit cassocked in black
at the corner bar
a murder of crows knocking back the sedatives of silence
onstage a bloated clown slanders santa his reindeer and the flag
trampling the remaining crumbs of decency while smearing
truth
with blue jokes and a torrent of profanity
i stand outside in a frigid east wind
watching this tragicomedy unfold through smoky plate glass
as reality eats my bones
disintegrating me to powder
post hanc
untethered
from the world
i float
in a watery soup of stars
a
circumstellar shadow among the incandescent
far from
the pain of home
i float
in a watery soup of stars
as the
heartache of world dissolves
far from
the pain of home
into a
gentle emptiness
as the
heartache of world dissolves
i am
reborn
into a
gentle emptiness
filled
with the humming of eternity
i am
reborn
a
circumstellar shadow among the incandescent
filled
with the humming of eternity
untethered
from world
RC deWinter writes in several genres with a focus on poetry. She’s also a digital artist and sometimes chanteuse.
RC deWinter’s poetry is widely anthologized, notably in Uno: A Poetry Anthology (Xlibris, April 2002), New York City Haiku (Universe/NY Times, 2/2017), Coffin Bell Two (Coffin Bell, March 2020) Winter Anthology: Healing Felines and Femmes, (Other Worldly Women Press, December 2020), Now We Heal: An Anthology of Hope, (Wellworth Publishing, December 2020) in print: in print in 2River, Adelaide, Door Is A Jar, Event, Gargoyle Magazine, Genre Urban Arts, Gravitas, Kansas City Voices, Meat For Tea: The Valley Review, the minnesota review, Night Picnic Journal, Prairie Schooner, Reality Break Press, Southword among others and appears in numerous online literary journals.
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