The Void
The Moon won’t rise.
Before cold eyes
Abortive suns capsize.
The blistered skies,
Awash with flies
Exist to terrorise
Those before the gate
And save those who contemplate
The void within without.
The space within
Where angels win
And thoughts fold out like tin;
The spectred night
And blinding light
Are every human’s right.
And those beyond the gate
Are those who mediate
The void within without.
An empty stage.
A young boy’s rage
Gestates and bloodies pages.
Internal zone;
A mobile home.
Nobody dies alone.
And those beyond the gate
Have chosen to palpate
The void within without.
And those beyond the gate
Elected to mutate;
Have learnt to celebrate
The void within without.
Nick Hudson
Before cold eyes
Abortive suns capsize.
The blistered skies,
Awash with flies
Exist to terrorise
Those before the gate
And save those who contemplate
The void within without.
The space within
Where angels win
And thoughts fold out like tin;
The spectred night
And blinding light
Are every human’s right.
And those beyond the gate
Are those who mediate
The void within without.
An empty stage.
A young boy’s rage
Gestates and bloodies pages.
Internal zone;
A mobile home.
Nobody dies alone.
And those beyond the gate
Have chosen to palpate
The void within without.
And those beyond the gate
Elected to mutate;
Have learnt to celebrate
The void within without.
Nick Hudson
posted by Nick Hudson at 12:13 PM
2 Comments:
I love your poetry! I find it very moving, it has a nicely stripped quality to it that leaves the reader to think for him/herself. Keep it up!
Aye Nick, am loving your poetry also. Especially love the one prior to this. "My abusive young hunger will swallow my days in a lurid grin" is my favourite line. Well played.
And, when am I going to get your albums, you crazy diamond. I await them as eager as a snapping old dog waits by the letterbox to chew up a newspaper. Tongue out, snarling, etc.
Hope you're well.
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