Author Information
GOLD MEDAL
Folder:
NO EYELIDS
Sore brow dismal and destitute
Shunned secretly by the sallow star
Constellations that carry no news
Except that we are to soon choose
Whether our life is worth spending
In the eternal monsoon of chaos
Relenting a little to trickle its tears
Those who hear the storm hidden
Beyond the formless clouds of time
Sprint like professional athletes
Competing for that old gold medal
Away to the foretold happier place
Their pace leaves them panting
Muscle spasms and ready to collapse
Falling on the ground and melting
Into an early earth grave with what
Other shelter than a polished coffin
Warmed by the maggoty warm soils
'Those who hear the storm
'Those who hear the storm hidden
Beyond the formless clouds of time'
magnificent