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Newyears

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The crow is painted white

not black today. I am lost, too lost

in the empty closets.

These machine people are like cannibals

sucking the oxygen out of us

contemporary believes: A woman flutters her eyelashes

like a bored crocodile snapping its jaws at flies.

A sparrow cleaves like air to the mute trees.

(There is no glory in the mass

coveting excitement like violent steeds)

The lights go ablaze – beer-belly men

smash their bottles into the grey stinking mist.

Beside the brick buildings

horseriders ride through a decade of fire and complaint.

The spotlights are spinning – No smile is real.

In desire, in design

the firmament is shut out from sight.

Luckless angels walk through

the scavenging crowd. Fame is singing

all dressed in fur – rich cruel shine.

The flares set off a new beginning

as ice-balls are hurled by the hands of reckless devils.

And they call my name: Blue New Age!

I am in a mud puddle fondling this insanity.

I face the pimpled stranger.

City of shadows, street lamps, revolvers;

tonight, hearts fall into the hands

of twisted, consuming lust.

Tomorrow, the show is dust

and we wake

with Time, like time

before.

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Copyright © 1991 by Allison Grayhurst

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Prophetic Voices – An International Literary Journal”, 1995

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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“Grayhurst’s rapturous outpouring of imagery makes her poems easily enjoyable … Like a sear the poet seeks to fathom sensual and spiritual experience through the images of a dream.” Canadian Literature

 “Allison Grayhurst’s Common Dream is a massive book by a talented and enthusiastic young writer, with a feel for descriptive, meaningful verse. Philosophical and very deep,” Paul Rance, editor of Eastern Rainbow, U.K.,  spring 1993.

“Her poems read like the journal entries of a mystic – perhaps that what they are. They are abstract and vivid, like a dreamy manifestation of soul. This is the best way, in prose, one can describe the music which is … the poetry of Allison Grayhurst,” Blaise Wigglesworth Oh! Magazine

“Rich images and complex, shifting metaphors drive Allison Grayhurst’s poems. She focuses on sexual love and interior landscapes, widening to include the heart, eternity and all.”  Next Exit

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