Poetry Blogs (clouds and weather)

I could have been in a trench

looking up at tanks passing

their underbellies squatting

so it was the day the clouds came

tumbling fusing in great clumps of air

boisterous blustering

towards a thin horizon

      with a hatred of the light.

I pleaded with them,     finally

they promised not to come back

      that night.

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GOTHIC STORM

Gothic storm across the heavens, splitting

the sky in two creating a rip in the fabric

of the sky into which the earth will fall,

doomed and dead into the abyss of time

forever more. We are the generation of the damned,

condemned to be this for the rest of our lives

until we die, by our own hand

or that of Old Father Time or of our enemie...

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