where the orange trees were in poetry

the poisonous and righteous festivals are fleeting
guitar wolves knee socks the excuses are depleting
there is raw panic in the baked deserted city
in the shallow of the desert there are distant feelings
in the valley of the sun the twilight is reeling
hope glows in the dark faith burns down the park
sleep a temporary death gods and devils place bets
the real is what’s left when you stop believing
the real is what’s left when the storm takes out the ceiling
the real is what’s left when the sun cooks off the dreaming
the real is what’s left
when you strip away the meaning

Last updated July 27, 2015