Ambrosia.

A kaleidoscope in death
take me where the poet lays
for I should never see again
the final act; halcyon;

like the esplanades 
I once walked upon
at the thunderous chaos
of my ghost; have we met
in the aches and laughs
woefully of all that
is strange; 

orgasmic ambrosia 
dissociation chuckles
into the bloodlust as wine.

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16 Comments

  1. This piece is a dangerously enjoyable experience of drinking wine, of loving life, but perhaps not being able to follow the dreams that tantalize us, that give us a reason to get up. Some dreams are found at the bottom of a bottle. Others are found elsewhere.
    Sitting stagnant with love is indeed a disassociation with chuckles . . .
    Love that the name of this piece is Ambrosia. It fits. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I love the richness of the imagery in this poem! The “thunderous chaos of my ghost” is such a unique and fascinating metaphor.

    Liked by 1 person

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