12 Comments

Weary Veins

Mercy, mercy. The idol is the ruler of the eyes in the land where lies are bland and cries cannot come sooner. It’s a crisis, for the dust settles when the only understood outcome is foreseen. All alone, buzzed, semiprivate, confused. Visions of rest without distress. Did the emptiness regress to the pitiful death? Beauty conquers that arid land in contrast to the blindness. Half can’t be trusted. Where is the love?

~That Dude Eddie~

Please don’t forget to share this. :)

Love and Peace.

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12 comments on “Weary Veins

  1. visions of rest with out distress…
    what a dream eh? nicely done here

  2. Good one Eddie! Let me ask you, do you write these first as a rhyming poem and then convert to prose? I ask because they seem to rhyme internally! Very cool one way or the other!!

    • It all depends on how I feel. Most of the time I choose not to rhyme, however, I do go back and forth between rhyme and free verse to play a little bit with the reader 😀

  3. I love what you’ve done here. It’s very well written. In particular, I love the line, “for the dust settles when the only understood outcome is foreseen.” Amazing.

  4. i like how its frenzied but also in control. good imagery too. semiprivate, and half can’t be trusted, are the words/lines that stuck out most.

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