history bleeding
EvilToasterElf
Posts: 1,119
history bleeding
In Tuxedo a broken furnace smolders,
like the carcass of an obsolete train
lying across the rusting rails.
The wood braces straddling the façade
have already started their slow decay.
Its surface is pockmarked by missing stones,
chiseled away by age and indifference
A cross of steel poles block the sagging entrance,
like a forgotten offering to the gods
of manufacture. A stone falls from the building
and lands in front of me, and I can almost
hear the echoes of boots, of processions like
corduroyed funerals, praying with those
blasted workman’s hands.
The black ground around the base is raked
with shards of coal. It stands like a pile of ash
molded into the shape of a tree.
I imagine the people who worked here
piling coal into the mouth of a monster;
as some must be spoon fed now
by distraught nurses,
some no doubt fed to the belly of the earth
to help compensate for those displaced chunks
of black rock.
Vast tarps cover the roof, a shrowd
The sparrows kneel on to pray
To chant their hymns to the forest
That overfed a demon until it died
If this furnace were a history book
it would bleed, the dark words of
leaking from chapter to chapter.
In Tuxedo a broken furnace smolders,
like the carcass of an obsolete train
lying across the rusting rails.
The wood braces straddling the façade
have already started their slow decay.
Its surface is pockmarked by missing stones,
chiseled away by age and indifference
A cross of steel poles block the sagging entrance,
like a forgotten offering to the gods
of manufacture. A stone falls from the building
and lands in front of me, and I can almost
hear the echoes of boots, of processions like
corduroyed funerals, praying with those
blasted workman’s hands.
The black ground around the base is raked
with shards of coal. It stands like a pile of ash
molded into the shape of a tree.
I imagine the people who worked here
piling coal into the mouth of a monster;
as some must be spoon fed now
by distraught nurses,
some no doubt fed to the belly of the earth
to help compensate for those displaced chunks
of black rock.
Vast tarps cover the roof, a shrowd
The sparrows kneel on to pray
To chant their hymns to the forest
That overfed a demon until it died
If this furnace were a history book
it would bleed, the dark words of
leaking from chapter to chapter.
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
I'm still reading it, here.
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
history bleeding
In Tuxedo a broken furnace smolders,
like a pile of ash molded into the shape of a tree.
Wood braces straddling the façade
have started their slow decay.
Its surface is pockmarked by missing stones,
chiseled away by age and indifference
A cross of steel poles block the sagging entrance,
a forgotten offering to the gods of manufacture.
Stones tumble to the earth in front of me,
and I hear the echoes of boots, of processions like
corduroyed funerals, praying with those
blasted workman’s hands.
black footpaths wind around the base,
raked with shards of coal.
I imagine the people who worked here
piling loads into the mouth of a monster;
as some find themselves shoved
into the dark rectangles of the earth’s hunger
to help compensate for those displaced chunks
of black rock.
Vast tarps cover the roof, a shroud
the sparrows kneel on to pray,
to chant their hymns to the forest
that overfed a demon until it died.
If this furnace were a history book
it would bleed, the dark words of
leaking from chapter to chapter.
A cross of steel poles block the sagging entrance,
like a forgotten offering to the gods
EV - St. Louis 7/1/11 ** Tulsa 11/19/12