Sour Fruit – 0057

Raw Poetry by Rev. Shakes Spear

Sour Fruit

It’s easy to cry for yourself
When you cry for no one else
It’s just a pity – 
Or is it a shame?
Either way, you’re never to blame.	

Enjoy your party with your limp balloons
As your mind rewinds that sad old tune
While you re-number the long list of fools
And plot revenge in daydreams of doom

Ah, that musk of disgust, your sweet perfume
It hangs in the air of every dead room
So dark and sour, every hour it dreams of a breeze
It can’t stand itself (it just wants to breathe).

Windows stay shuttered and doors never open
And the promise of life is just another one broken
So the party rolls on into the dawn
There’s really no sign of it slowing.

You drink away time through bottles of wine
And harvest the fruit of the seeds you’ve been sowing;

Watered with the constant flow of tears over years
You’ve shown a green thumb for growing your fears.

The size and the scope – how do you cope?
These blossoms are awesome but this is no joke.
You’ve stunted yourself, there’s no room to grow.
You're nothing but bloom. Where are your roots?

Please don't plant the seed if you won't eat the fruit.


3-3-24