Planet On Poppies. Poem by Alison Rosalie

You could tell me you could name it
The earth’s on a rampage
And there ain’t no way we could tame it,
Well you wouldn’t needn’t shouldn’t have to advise me
Of clouds or seas to pass, but I’ll strangle the argument
and try not to look so desperate to agree.
Shake my head like desperate death,
desperate meth,
desperate death desperate death,
(like trusting a fox for his grin;
A crow for his shriek;
A hyena for his cackle)

Well in short I guess you tried,
Tried heaven, the moon, and somewhere in between,
Tried life and death and goddamn somewhere in between!
Tried sky high – moon high – heaven high!
Well hell, you tried just about everything.

You could, you could tell me a-something something,
That the earth, well it’s gone a bit crazy,
It’s gone a little weird in the head and it’s fall in spring,
Well you could, you could say something I already knew
bang your knees on the ground and mutter the sounds
like crack-head desperation and sad syringe blues.
(but really, who are you
to tell me what I can do?)

backs towards the shoreline, skyline, recline (but fake fine)
speaking into the dead line,
deadlines still dying,
deadlines – days later.
skylines still breathing
skylines still meaning
feeling nothing short of you
and a dead line -
the waves sounding
from a click of my mouth
stopped dead falling
into a dead line.
Boats and barriers breaking,
Riding waves
Into the shorelines,
Skyline, oh, still dying.