graffiti and perforations


beneath a full moon in the late fall

the brightest, fullest, biggest moon ever seen

already the handwriting is on the wall

soft tempting lines like poetry by fickle muses unforeseen


letters spill into the mortared joints
chiseled with an attention to pretext

scant scripts shown

a monologue that only the man in the moon had known


now, this silence forms

within whispers of collective thought

where wonders lie

and love and fantasy die


side winding words as if dust on the wind

syllables threaded one strand at a time in vague ways
impressionable rust thrusts in like iridescent pastel paint

as the forgotten ink of fate masterfully meanders


delusion detects a last chance for influence

as panting silver tongues lap it all up
when the symmetric mouth considers the improvised prayer of prediction

and the deaf night listens for tomorrow


where graffiti and perforations suffer in a narrative shift    

View 9inety's Full Portfolio
a.griffiths57's picture

    Every line a delight to



Every line a delight to read. Loved this poem of yours even if it's about graffiti, you have a wonderful way with words.

nightlight1220's picture

I love that phrase... "the

I love that phrase... "the symmetric mouth" Gotta love it.


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "


and_hera_met_zeus's picture

perfect and enticing in its

perfect and enticing in its mystery

9inety's picture

thank you

I know I love a good mystery



"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"

Dylan Eliot

allets's picture

Fickle Muses Unforeseen

Like poetry - is a great comparison - handwriting on the wall - a sign of the times but I refuse to take this poem literally, literarily it sings. "The deaf night listens for tommorrow" is other worldly writing.  "perforations" is in an entirely different key - sing on Nine + Ten ~A~