literature

The Banalities of Describing A Sunset

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Schofield-Alan's avatar
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Literature Text

100 little, orange orgasms...
or 1,000 red medium-sized sneezes?

O' the banalities of describing a sunset!
I'm sitting on my roof watching it.
Watching hell deflate in a busty, dark-indigo hug.

But I scratch that out because that's not quite right.
That orgasm/sneeze line needs to go too.

The angels burning the gardens of heaven applaud.
Or are they pouring orange soda on a defibrillator,
Frying the floating swarms of chartreuse Martian eyes,
Ashen lashes skittering onto the ghost
chewing the slow, slow grenade.

I'm thankful for words like "indescribable"  
that make poetry easy.
It's not my lack of vocabulary or creativity.
This sunset's simply indescribable.  Ha!  Heh.
Oh God.

And whirling about in what language to paste where
Straining to MAKE    POETRY    HAPPEN!
I become senseless to the poetry happening to me.
A man on his roof, trying to describe a sunset
to a piece of paper, but he can't because it's impossible.
THAT'S the poem!

Should I put the pen down and wake to the poetry abounding
Relentlessly, each burning moment?
I cannot.  Caught up in this flourish
of self-mechanizing chaos.

It is like describing a sunset...
Explains itself.
© 2012 - 2024 Schofield-Alan
Comments35
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RedSuzanne's avatar
Yes.. it really does. Perfectly.