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this is no place for saints
by Vikki Owensfilthy, bitter heart,
this is no place for you,
among the mess of muscle
in this cage,
a confession is more or less
a plea to god for forgiveness
and a compression of the chest.
this is no place for prayer,
where the blood and bone intersect,
this is a place for want, desire and unrest.
a flutter of an engine,
in the machine work body of a man,
here is the place where all worldly
wishes converge
to move the automation to wake up in the morning,
and nevermind the urge
to achieve the holy heights of the godlike grace
of limitless knowledge
the garden of the fruit of good and evil
resides in the marrow of sturdy bone and sinew,
a tower built to reach the heavens,
one earthly cell, divided two by two. 12/02/2011 Posted on 12/03/2011
Copyright © 2025 Vikki Owens
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 12/03/11 at 05:02 PM fantastic, love the last couple of lines, how it sums it up and keeps it playing in my mind. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/03/11 at 06:19 PM That first line grabs hard. This is gritty and I enjoyed the progression from the the heart is not, to what it is. Very clever last four words. Thank you. |
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