If words are important

surely, they are as important as the corpses

of the forgotten.

Words, like men are buried,

dismembered,

misremembered.

Corpses sometimes disinter

as if to scream

here is where we were.

Corpses are who we are,

they are the words we will become

Spoken with a dying tongue

Preserve our words as treasure

lest they ar...

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The cell wall didn't feel like her skin

the coming night held no mystery

Just the sound of clanking routines

to punctuate the misery of solitude

It was not like the battlefield

where he could satiate his emptiness

Long nights of nothing rescued by morning

when another kill would replenish his reason

Here the unwanted new day brought unlocking

fo...

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Truth sat upon her righteous cloud

drifting serenely unchallenged and proud

She felt so aloof up there on her roof

no need of trivial burdens of proof

But truth had forgot of the things she knew not

so many truths changed outside of her lot

The people below would point to the sky

shaking their heads as she drifted on by

In such rarefied air there wa...

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Words repel an Empty Page

A Robin flits The Tree,

Heaven quells Angelic Rage

and sets A Demon Free...

Omission and Commission

with or without thought,

are license to permission

when bent to please The Court...

To do or not to do is Dust

when in the balance weighed,

what's gone is gone and surely Just

when on the field played...

Yet time revea...

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If verbosity

be

linguistic atrocity

then brevity

must

preferably be.

Should

The slaughter

of

Prose & Rhyme

qualify

as Culture Crime?

All charges

must

of course be dropped,

the voice of man

will not

be stopped.

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Defibrillate these days

arrest the tides and moon

realign their unsynced ways

that harmony might bloom

Jolt the seas and sands

their drifts and timeless flow

reset their lost commands

from those which men impose

Shake clear the dusty canopy

unblock the damage done

reveal our blind insanity

that we might stay the sun

Stabilise o...

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If man cannot know the universe entire

how can he know his place in it?

A room is just a room within its walls

yet beyond it seems a stifling cage.

The truth of a man’s dimensions is a mystery

revealed only upon his demise.

Our "self" is a compressed vessel on the seabed,

the lowest point in a Cathedral of Infinity.

All possibilities exist beyond th...

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There are no sides but every side,

those defined by what they know nothing of

they are a t-shirt fading on a student's couch

a body festering in a Kosovan barn

Youthful righteousness,

insulting the open wounds of real people's lives.

croctears on "Whitehall" while "Bruxelles" gorges

"Capitol Hill" wrings its hands on red lines that can't be crossed.

Quiet you...

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In the cool air of the nave

the walls retreat from all but grief

The space between hangs still

no need of tears or mock belief

The silence is enough of heaven

that souls need never leave this place

The flag draped vessel so proudly primed

an end regaled in humble grace

Audio and Video at link

https://wolfgarwords.com/2024/05/11/vigil/

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I thought to write without one word that placed our species here,

though in one line my mind deferred all hopeful want of such idea.  

To write the firmament unlit or forest stripped of woodland life,

this sphere devoid of us in it might surely mean some other strife...

would in our place too meekly rise beneath such wasteful ways

and do more harm than human life in ...

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Built that someday they would come,

their war and their solution done.

Not by rail or cattle truck,

not by chance and not by luck.

By design of no return

In Blood & Soil their New World earned.

Crushed and killed that they might rise

to Rule beyond cold baltic skies.

When enemies invert their roles,

what's lost and won is more than souls.

With so much g...

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Rest beneath the Yew a while

hear Blackbird song and Thrushel flow,

you walked your long last lonely mile

to where all pilgrims surely go.

Be in your peace caressed by soil

return to life again from dust,

no winter freeze nor harvest spoiled

too harsh to quiet the springtime thrush.

Stone Cherubs pluck their rain-stained harps

the petal wilts as petals do,

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Gun in the fridge

the strangest thing

now it's just full of

Vodka and Gin

Gun in the fridge

belt buckle checks

burst ear drums

bodies and wrecks

Gun in the fridge

drive round again

buckshee rounds

in a bag in a drain

Gun in a fridge

don't carry ID

over the river

in the place they call free

Gun in the fridge

thank fuck I've...

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