Vena Cava

Thump thump thump

Whistle while you walk
and rustle into brethren mists.
Coarse lines divide us
and surge inside us, with vitriol.

Thump thump thump

Hold hands,
make plans,
clamber for those radiant hills;
we bruise when we bounce together.

Thump thump

Amassed, we are seismic when we surge;

Red and bulbous and full of hot air

Thump

Jargon

Your speech is confusing,

bemused tongue-lashing where we thrash

and capsize. I’m a buoy in the sea

that throbs: black, red and grey.

Words thrown, by a man, overgrown,

who strokes time, golden and fluid,

thunders like knives; unknown, unwise.

We nod to the thrum of progress,

shunting to paradise,

our tongues static as time.

#365DaysOfPoetry