Till the day we fly free

a poem by nublaccsoul from Chickens Laying Eggs on The Roof (2019)

Photo by Noah Holm on Unsplash

I’m reaching but never gripping,

It’s soul ripping how they’re preaching,

yet are never teaching.

I’ll never hide,

even when I die.

I’ll be immortalized

in some formaldehyde.

Where my soul, spirit and skin divide

I’ll be like a deity,

the higher me,

doing the Lord’s work,

hire me.

The humble apple-pie

can satisfy no appetite

here comes the hunger tide.

When wings carried Icarus

through cutting winds

we were pulled feathers

of wisdom’s birdy-body of ink

taking flight to Olympus planes

the son, seeks The Sun.

I’m grown now,

dealing with chronic stress,

and I believe less in a deity,

it seems like too far a stretch

The stench from a faithless,