A Walk To The Middle of Nowhere.

The ageless wanderer, still. No
stillness in the leaves that go
crunch underfoot. The soft whine of the
telephone echoes through the messy land.

She is awake.
Already? What a strange woman.
Nowhere to go for hours yet.

A weary Sun rises in the East, she winces.
Dawn is far too bright for her, with that old migraine
biting at her neck. She doesn't wish to speak
with the Sun today. The Sun is her mother.
Her blood warms with the starshine but
her breath can still be seen,
Obscene, utterly obscene.

How riduculous, so many things:
The Resurrection; The Virgin;
The Judas; The Angels.
She can still taste Heaven and still
smell the smog of Hell.
She is stuck in some no place.

Her mouldy eyes scan the rosebush,
all flowers stolen, leaving thorns.
A crown. her crowning glory.
Jack broke his crown and
Jesus wore his with red
mascara. Teardrops are nothing today.

Memorising the lines of his iris.
What a one-way street, her devotion
to a man that doesn't kinow her name.
Cowerdice, throw the dice.
Gamble, trample, fall.

The winner takes it all,
Abstract numbers and more.

Humanistic approach, tripled.
What a fiasco, crossing
the hypotenus with the hypothesis.
The Id in 'Little Gidding'
has gone and flew away.

Eliot and Plath, forever dancing
in the melancholy moonlight.
Fragile little creatures.

So here it comes - the sound of drums,
thundering to war. The mud chruns
the earth soggy to the core as the sky
grows dense and metallic with planes and bombs.

Raise the dead, too many to count.
The Belsen Tango doesn't take off.
Perhaps in thr Rhubarb Triangle it will, maybe.

Triangles, again?
The sine of Theta is Koshei
and the tangents of Sec: useless drivel.

Stick of artichoke in the teeth.
She dances with the alien music in her ears.
A woman called Miss Jones.
How desperately sad, spitting
caustic soda onto the tarmac.
It hits with a stubborn the hiss.

Life is very long for hert.
Seventeen years feels eternal
under the wrong skin.

Burn her at the stake, that little hinny.
Dangerous lady, screaming "Allons-Y" to emptiness.
Can she see angels or demons? Is she
pulling familiars from Photoshopped
Supernovas?

"You should have raised another child,"
her lips say to the wind, a false line.

Hopelessness becomes her savior in place
of that old Doctor, who never comes.

Confusing to say the least.. but then I guess that is the point.

Hey, you. It’s been a while, eh? Anyway, about the poem, it’s amazing writing. It’s an artwork of words. I just wish that I could understand it better . There are, however, a few things I’d like to point out:

“The ageless wanderer, still. No
stillness in the leaves that go…”
Personally I think that you should do something about that.
It’s not a repetition of a word but it’s close.

to a man that doesn't kinow her name.
I believe you meant ”know”.

Perhaps in thr Rhubarb Triangle it will, maybe.
Did you min “their”, or something like that?
Also you repeat “Triangle” in the next stanza.
Perhaps you have a good reason to, but in that case I don’t
get it and it just struck me as repetitive. =P

Life is very long for hert.
Is it supposed to be ”her”?

Some typos is really all that’s “wrong” with this poem as far as the writing itself is concerned. As for the message and things like that I really don’t know because I’m just not smart enough to “decode” it properly . Anyway, love the phrasing, the type of words you use and just the imagery over all. Especially these parts:

”So here it comes - the sound of drums,
thundering to war. The mud chruns
the earth soggy to the core as the sky
grows dense and metallic…”

”Photoshopped Supernovas”

”"You should have raised another child,"
her lips say to the wind, a false line.”

Totally aweome

I was going to go back and find the typos, repetitions in it, but it looks like there's no need. I thought the 'triangle' lines were okay, personally, because I'm thinking that you did that purposely since you used 'again'.

'Jack broke his crown and
Jesus wore his with red
mascara.'
^I just loved those lines especially, I thought they had a certain dark humour about them.

With your scientific language, it really emphasises the religious references, since traditionally they should be two topics which are inherently different to each other, but here it just worked, like you couldn't have one without the other.

You are one of the few original writers at the moment. You pleasantly surprise me each and every time.

Honey Emerald:

Confusing to say the least.. but then I guess that is the point.

It may be confusing for the common reader, but it's absolutely satisfying for a real poetry lover.

amazing!!! i love it =)