Under My Sofa

Bonfires of Bones

Bones burn black until they crack and marrow bubbles out of them like a thing alive
Creeping like a smouldering spy over the pools of solidifying fat that melted then revived
Are they dead, or is it simply a newly structured body that had them heat and boil?
Like syrup sliding stickily into the bubbles in cake, blood sluggishly drains into soil
Skin crackles underfoot, as freshly fallen leaves crunch in the silence of fall
Once the chill drives away orchestras of birds that are too wary to conduct their call
Skin that split as though a seed germinating at the onset of spring
Not helped along by warmth but searing heat that only rage can bring
Bruises painting yellow and purple flowers across the landscape of flesh
Quickly wilting and fading to reveal that pain does not remain fresh
But quickly takes the sky with grey and purple clouds that threaten rain
The threat looming until anger cracks in the form of all insane
A storm that weeps so much blood that there's none left to mar skin
As it abandons failing muscles and flees to the internal organs within
Hairs singe, blades of grass cropped to stand the same
Soldiers stripped of life by dragon breath on a battlefield of others' gain
Have you ever spilt animal fat onto a stove and watched it flare and spit?
Humans are animals, so when our fat flares and spits, we scream and shit
War isn't clean, it's random spurts of mud and blood and fire
Fuelled not by righteous rage but by power's cold desires
Where two juxtaposing nations that crossed their trailing wires
Petulantly throw toy soldiers and whine to mummy about liars
Unable to accept that some things are subjective
They hated each other because their paths were reflected
Along the human drawn border that marked where they diverged
Ignoring the similarity that they both were deaf when people urged
For battles to take place on the field of documentation
That symbolises an honest chance to alter relations
Instead they chose cremation
People stacked dead and rotting like sweet smelling fruit in a supermarket
Ashes falling from the sky to land on target
Choking the enemy they sought to kill in wars
Even in death, melted and perished, they are forced to fight still for another cause

***

Hey, hope everyone's having a lovely day.

Welcome to poem two of my FEBRUARY A-Z CHALLENGE! The commitment, I've stuck at it for two days running!

Uh, to break down this poem:
War bad. Legislation good.

An incredibly black and white view, and of course there are exceptions, but as a general rule... Well I don't think it's a bad stance.

Alex xxx