PoetBay.com, the poetry webpage where you can publish your poems and short stories

In The Pages

Something big is kicking in the pages
Books are fading into bright city faces
Secret rivers run on fire and ruin is gain
Someone profiting from all this human pain,

There are ghosts wailing beneath the broken trees today
All is given away and taken slowly for a ride to sleep
Always in a borrowed bed or so to speak it may be said
Or swallowed like a poison breath of rented air
What is crooked and cooked to death and what is fair ?

I feel myself reduced to frozen rags and dancing in blatant graveyards
Nothing like a single thought dries rattling clutter in my head
No visions of love to revive a heart, where angels fear to tread
It's just dreams in the heavens, it's just the cut of the cards
The lowering darkness filled with seas of rain

Someone profiting from all this human pain
Secret rivers run on fire and ruin is gain,
Books are fading into bright city faces
Something big is kicking, in the pages

Poetry by Chaucer Whethers