The Bell Tolls

At the nape of your neck.. my pale fingernails linger in thin curls..

softly pressing you into my cheek..

your ear to mine..

around my shoulders you rest..

tender grazing on soft sheets..we wrap each other..

we hold and console

carefully concealing one another..

tightly safeguarding…

At times, I am underneath you.. hiding and retreating, guarded, kept warm and protected

At times, I become your wings..stretching myself wide on top of you..allowing you to float..to relax..to drift

We take turns lifting each other

We take turns breathing for the other

Tender kisses blend with sour tears

pained and silent

………..we make love

While the walls are crashing to the ground

While bombs are blasting and shots are firing

amidst screams..

………..we make love

While fires are burning and corpse lie uncovered in the streets

………..we make love

with shell casings at the foot of the bed and war ravaged photographs on the pillow

………..we make love

with a black-hooded victim huddling in the corner; dawning torn feet and lacerated hands

with orphan children crying underneath the bed

while the floor boards are rattling and the earth is shaking

while the Regime is at the door and the sirens are wailing…

………..we make love

with hundreds of gas-masked covered faces..peering through the windows

………..we make love..

Desperately revolting against the hour

Fighting minutes by seconds to reclaim lost innocence

The ticks tock louder..and then… The Bell tolls…

(Times up)..with angst we face each other

I leap from the bed onto bloody execution stones..

grab the pistol, posters, banners, and bullhorn..

He grabs the vest, machetes, rifle, and phones..

….a blown kiss..and out separate windows we fly.

 

 

(“The Revolution WILL NOT be Televised”..just whispered through the hearts of the TRUE REVOLUTIONARIES.”

 

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About mantra

I am who I am, simply.
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  • http://www.scribd.com/Penucquem/info Ronald Thomas West

    As dangerous & honest as I’ve read, anywhere, bar none. Apocalyptic love-making .. not love of apocalypse, however intertwined, the distinction is clear. Inasmuch as it mirrors trapped innocents with two immersed souls refusing to bend, it relates to the lyric I’d heard in the present day’s young peoples’ music: “I’d rather feel pain than nothing at all” .. excepting this is a clearly gifted and evolved step beyond.

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  • http://www.midnightriderbk-poetry.blogspot.com carlus wilmot

    This is one of the best poems I’ve read to yours to date. Hot, great word play, flows very well. Mature sexy, and not vulgar. Loved it all…
    carlus wilmot´s last blog post ..4-1-11

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    • http://www.mantralotus.com mantra

      Thanks Carlus!

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