Thread: On Desolation Row

On Desolation Row

Fortitude had it's gouges;
Orifices, nicks, nook & cranny-cranberries
Charred nickel black from
The iron foundry
Where Dubai was laid to waste

The air of an abandoned fort
Ran through these nostrils
Like two vaulting typhoons
Of moondirt

My retreat in the ruptured sun
Infested with the claws
Of shadowthorne
Burnt rubber underboots sloshing
In the muck of the recessive dark moment

I crawl through the corpse
Of Ellis Island
-That assembly of tasmanian savants
And Alkatraz, where daunting features
Still haunt those mausoleum walls

I wonder.
If before writing
"The Count of Monte Cristo"
Alexandre Dumas
was a former prisoner
himself.

-The Second Wind-

Vagabonds and hybrids thrive in the nooks,
Transvestite boogie clubs all around.
The place of vampiric dreams and lost blood.
Where drops of melon and eggnog liqueur
cause girls to gather up, offering their services
In exchange for a smear of sustenance.

Why do they choose the life of the chemical wasteland?
Attempting to peer into the souls of teens and
unborn mothers may cause delirium.
And a visit from the soul eater.
Sanity extraction almost complete.
Monsters lead such interesting lives.

A third attempt at introspection leaves unsanitary results.
The smell of ammonia and bleach:
Ah, heavenly!
Masochistic determination; bleeding agent orange.
Windswept spores sprinting uphill; the verdict:
Mopped up bones and blood for the trash disposal.

Fortitude had it's gouges...

Should be "its gouges".

I thank thee for the short yet succinct reply. It shall be fixed.

- Jubetower