Burning Gold Frames

by Drew Gold   Nov 3, 2007


The club of a caveman
waving in the brown heat
like a cool paintbrush
ing up against a sabre
toothed-tiger's jaw;

locked inside a portrait.

the melody of attack
syncing to all rhythms,
snakes into the strike
as the red spill jets
sunny drops of life

locked inside a portrait.

the deep dead pounding.
a step over history.
frozen like an artery,
this animal is skinned
--its skeleton a map.

locked inside a portrait.

the lavafire tars bubbling,
perfect bones left to sink
charcoaled in mysterium,
down a fossilized petrify
thickened with delirium.

locked inside a portrait.

and our final spinning sun
on earth everywhere
shapes are being riped
and ripped from clogged
earthroots & grubworms

locked inside a portrait.

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Latest Comments

  • 14 years ago

    by Lady Nik

    This is such a creative poem. I love the style..very different. You have a very cool way of writing. Keep it up. Nik

  • 16 years ago

    by Nowhere Man

    Great stuff.... I've never read a poem like this.... a fun read.. 5/5

  • 16 years ago

    by Lenny

    Heh. Great imagery. You have it all- the beginning of time-locked inside a portrait-to steal your key line.