The gods have fallen
and the guitars silenced
heaven songs gone awry
yet humanity survives
in anger drowns the night
angled anchored angels
half way to their waists
and not a tear is dropped
two bottles of red wine
remain unopened tonight
for the last gasp of hope
as her golden hair burns
taking my fingers along
amused flower of corn
singing praises of love
the forgotten and lost
empty word paintings
hanging from the maple
and my devotion torn
our sensual momentum
your abnormal reflection
my purpose and cause
have no shape at all
and yet for some reason
we can all move about
enchanting our misery
calling it living,
living may we all.
©2005 Carlos Pérez
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