50 Shades of Darkness

A collaboration with Instagram Poetess @twinksfly
Do check out her work, amazing talent!

The fossil site was burnt to charcoal long ago
The remain of tar grease smells leathery
Sable branches drape off the ebony
The jet black raven croaks at the inky cloud
Furry spiders find their way into the midnight hollow

Standing tall amongst the ashes – of the dense foliage
That once breathe life, I stare at the smoldering ruin
With ebony flush under solar flashes, from winds that blew hard
The charred skeleton of a home, by standing, barbequing beams’ brewing

The warm evenings where crickets hovered, as the sun set
The ironbark veranda, where the kids giggled, has become a fret
Bush by bush, the fire swept, up to the garden fence
Up to the now charcoal front door, in her embrace I cense

The scent which bloomed through the air from roses red
When the delicate petals danced gaily soaking garden with vibrant colors
Now a tombless tombstone festooned by the wreath of flesh red
Lay witness with a heavy aroma of death of the dreadful summer

And my gaze walks through the charred husk that once was a car
As I remember the loud inferno, overwhelming senses, from afar
Wondering where was a freight train running at this hour
Knowing even if it was by the lake’s edge, it would become char

Every morning, with sun’s first ray, I look at the calves playing on the rubble and say
As the flaring tragedies trail throttles the screams frail
I stand still, a mute spectator of the worst-case scenario of when forecasts fail
It’s going to come again, the skies are still gray, are you counting the day

Furry spiders find their way into the midnight hollow
As the jet black raven croaks at the inky cloud
And sable branches drape off the ebony
While the remains of tar grease smell leathery
This fossil site was burnt to charcoal long ago

Is it all too late

Photo taken by Cassa Bassa at Sydney Harbour Bridge, Australia


Our backyard is burning
Our conscience is trapped in a furnace
There is no Daniel to intercede for us
There aren’t angels to our rescue
We are sitting with our transgression
against our mother earth

We have been wallowing in the luxury of
blue sky, calm rivers, flourishing forest
sweeping our sin under the poisoned land
committing more in the name of economic growth

Our backyard is on fire
Is it all too late
for us to escape from our wrongdoing
pleading tears dry out
before God can hear our cry
to send rain

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