Black Ice Poetry 22

The dansant in the dark side of the mind;come away with me hand in hand,a link that will never be broken,reaching out to touch the aching bones of poverty,the stooped body twisted in a damp sweat,the mind dizzy in the memory of a hard life;strike the worn hammer hard on the iron shoe,a busted hand soaked in the blood of a wicked toil on the hard road of the beaten path;clap the hand in the echo of poets way in a far away land,the tick tock of the beaten drum rumbles in the head,read between the broken lines on the blank page;the milk bottle rattles in a rock'n'roll on the cobbled street,a shard in the making, the lost ring in the darting swoop of the swallow staring you naked in the wrinkled face,down but never out for the count in the bruising words of others,a crash in the mind to crush the evil away;the night bird sings in the shadow of the dark corner,angels appear with open wings to warm the soul back to life to be someone in somebody,the great potential dormant in the head;a beacon of light to shine on the man of the sea,the blonde bottle crashing out with the rattled milk bottle,the rolling waves tangled in the foaming water,listen to the silence in a cut of silence,swing high in a crushing low of the wrecking ball,a rawness to stay alive and kicking,crumble the stone to dust,warn the child yet to be born,the dark shadow lurking in the echo of poets way,the aching feet smoulder in the mirage of the sweltering heat,the heavy socks smell in the dirt of a hard life;hanging on to a wretched freedom of a baby refused the right to life,suck the milk still warm in the curdled blood of the slaughtered child,the kiss of a mother's love on the sweet child asleep but never forgotten;the fat of the crowd bloodied in the face of the people,the teeth flash in a killer smile,the image in the mirror cracked,broken,worn to the decayed stump gummy in the crying smile,sucking you into the sea of life,naked as a dog on the run from the dark with tears of fear trapped in the mind,the quarry hole at the end of the line,,deep in the water of life;snared in the cusp of power to sleep on the marble slab,cleanse yourself in the water of the frozen lake,hit the buffers of old age staring you in the wrinkled face,stark naked in the cracked mirror,a fleeting smile turning into a laughing shame;a wall never to fall in a delirious tumble,cling to life like the old man leaning on the broken gate,dead calm in the hands of god;sleep with your back to the flaking wall,a frail freedom hanging on tender hooks from the dusty sky,sail through the forest in a sea of trees to never miss the boat again,dark spots dance o'er the sore eyes,the hungry mouth wrapped around the aching spine about to snap,a promise broken in a wish never to come true,a teasing chance of success laughing at you in the blushing face;drink the water from the rusty cup of love on the rocks,the hard path once walked by the dead now walked by the living dead,the old boots worn to the naked bone,a coldness trickles through the twisted body in a bed of sweat,stale in the last breath.