trapped with a salvaged map,
trucking through catacombs
lit white as bone
with flames
that maimed bloodlines
sacred rhymes
made claim
as the only holy domain
he walks over
floors worn scorned
walls caked, torn
and bubbled as the ceiling
crumbles rubble
pacing down rumbling tunnels
paranoid
the thunder of stampeding
those roaming freely
the fools
with undoubtedly wicked
tools, with spools
of delusions, confusions
prayers impaired
of the ruthless
the others
deserted
by his ruling Spirit
-B. Brown
(image by Jillian Locke)
Hi your poem almost reads like a novel. Very cool way to write it. I liked maimed bloodlines…made claim…over the holy domain. I like how it sounds when read out loud.
Thank you so much for taking notice! I’ve been practicing with spoken word, trying to get to a point where I can perform