Stitched Fists

Alex Maxwell Poem Kubili

With these insistent stitched fists
drenched in streams of perspiration
we clutch at our stubborn foresight
like beggars in darkened doorways
banging dragon ridged knuckles
with veins bulging red
upon hindered defunct doors
where abandoning scales of paint
recall societies prohibited perception
voicing foul on wisdom, while
clinging to thumbholes of security
within histories grain stained planks
of hidden splinters and rusty nails
blindly pushing, when required to draw
chasing rabbit’d words hopping
down earthly tunnelled burrows
into mist hovering graveyards
of eerily full moon’d howls
littered with cruel subjectiveness.

While the toll of infinity bells
bears no palpable reason
to this strangled world of existence
for our rights counter others wrong
smiles become frowns grown
and the self denial of blunt content
keep awake with piecing screams upon
the blazing sacrificed bed
through raging life filled forests
where wind creeps skyward trees
which we cripply attempt outrun
but are head down propelled
back to the fierce blaze
proving naivety is what
we deafly crave.

Alex Maxwell
© ® 2018

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