Omnivacant

Parched throats refuse to scream,

drinking the dust from craters,

watching the knives cut the blue out of the sky,

wrapping up the mushroom heads for the new bleak horizon.

Roaring treads is the dominant fashion trend,

parading through the common ruin of immolated dreams.

A stray bark and onlookers collapse on command.

Roll their bones to the floor to pave the path forward:

An infrastructure comprised of bleeding architecture.


And yet palms still stretch to rise above the wake of a ticking clock,

their pain on display, their eyes begging for storms,

a deluge to wipe the slate clean and knock the blades out of orbit.

Past stratosphere and stars,

an empty throne stares back with ambivalence.


Painted boards and battle cries

never pierce past blue screens,

but the reach of ignorance crosses over every deconstructed domain.

Find purchase in the soil to double down versus the trauma machine,

but it only needs a simple wave to pull hearts asunder.

The home that screams the loudest is the next to be demolished.


Fire, fire arching overhead.

Fire, fire straight into the lines

Fire, fire arching overhead.

Fire, fire straight into the lines

and blank out their eyes.


The march of empty feet still proceeds through the hail.

A procession files neatly into cracked wooden caskets,

as the ones lost to erupting cars find a funeral in the flash.

No justice to claim despite living under this cause,

where there’s a promise of hope and a promise of solace through nothing but faith.


But what of the ones with graves unmarked,

the stones set in place by those using your name?

Their limbs are cracking under layers of earth churned out by this machine,

fingers clawing to reach to the sky.


But past all of this fear and all of this loss,

past sermon and sacred and service and safety.

Past stratosphere and stars,

an empty throne stares back, ambivalent.

( ❤ Mitch)

2 Comments

  1. This might be one of my favorite of yours. It’s quite bleak, which might be the reason why I like it.

    “Painted boards and battle cries
    never pierce past blue screens,
    but the reach of ignorance crosses over every deconstructed domain.”

    I like this part because I immediately had to think of all the “activists” who mainly operate on Facebook (hence the blue screens), but don’t do anything actively besides making grand statements (hence battle cries). Of course, I’m not sure if that was your intended meaning, but that was my first thought.

    As always, keep up the great poetry and a happy new year. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I appreciate you putting so much thought into this! This and the previous poem came out of a more bleak period for me, so the mood is very intentional haha. As for what it means, I’m so happy that you’d use your time at all to spend just a second thinking about this. I have my own interpretation but I have more joy letting that go unknown. Poetry is a very emotional art, so I think it’s valuable when someone can attach themselves to something I’ve made with how they interpret it 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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