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Demons of dust

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  • Demons of dust

    DEMONS OF DUST

    The dust of demons settle in the lungs
    Close to the heart and the blood line
    Drum beats open the scars of a thought war along with its songs
    Poems of flowers wilt in the furnace of the carnal mind
    Hovering mothers pull their child artists away from dedication
    The balls of the critic grow larger and more infected
    And the painter becomes a common liar
    On the consuming canvas
    What have you created in trust?
    Men from demons?
    Demons for men?
    Or quite simply all of us- Demons of dust?

    RDS
    THE SECOND


  • #2
    I like the chiastic bookends: dust of demons / demons of dust. This seems to me to speak of the loss of integrity - ostensibly artistic integrity, but with wider implications too.

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    • The second
      The second commented
      Editing a comment
      thank you grant it gave me an uplift of spirit to read your posts it is good to see you
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