
some will never get there
along sordid smooth surface
vile with mud soaked through the soles
and darkness pervading angelic souls
where dead leaves come in a variety of shapes and shades
divergent from the view of a mild day –
silvery shining spikes of gloom –
others nurture and take pictures through and through
for where there is throng there is light
I prefer to walk with crows
they told me the most incredible stories
those that cause blood to curdle in the veins
scaring children and gradually taking away peace
I grew familiar with their grim
as everyone has a dark side
revealed when the sun is still out
holding the most prominent signs
then you recognise the real fraud
narcissists, barnacles, boners, extortionists
the world’s hearty canvas is full of them
they tend to retreat to the vicinity of their own crowd
trying to deny and cover all their crimes
with smooth talk throwing a smooth throw
over everything shaded bit by bit
to avoid admitting their true nature
the one they usually hide at the heart of it
smooth lies appear with smooth dirt
from the one they later leave
sad cases related to this story
no one will forget until their glory
will fade away when exposed to light
the one that slandered The Right
and The Left are left behind
in the cold murmur resonating from the neighbouring abodes
---
Thank you for reading!
If you liked this poem, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work.
You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.
About the Creator
Moon Desert
UK-based
BA in Cultural Studies
Crime Fiction: Love
Poetry: Friend
Psychology: Salvation
Where the wild roses grow full of words...




Comments (2)
Woodland trails rarely fail to bring solace to souls unseen. And tales be told of broken holds from a world rendered unclean.
another great poem. Love it.