broken bells

By Stone Bryson

bullets replace the jellybeans,

anger does despair.

the coldness of the hammer

parts my thinning hair.

the music of an engine

becomes a tattered mess,

the casing of a winner

starts to show the stress…

of a life… and a dream…

that’s fallen more than twice.

the blanket knows of memories

that cannot melt the ice…

of a fear… and a hopelessness…

that you enhanced so well,

clueless of the silence

of ringing broken bells.

Nirvana overcomes me,

for a little while.

the daisies on the bed-frame

remain a taunting smile.

the chances of an island

alone at sea, at last,

reminds me of a dream

that withered very fast…

of a home… and a future…

just barely out of grasp.

the shelling of artillery

that blows away the mask…

of the deceit… and the game…

that you played so very well,

alone in the silence

of ringing broken bells.

weeds are overcoming

the flowers in my mind.

the smoke is getting thicker

and the eagle starts to blind.

falling down a spiral

for the legends to unfold,

the aging of a leper

begins to take its toll…

on the drive… and the light…

that used to shine so pure.

the dimming was so rapid

now the echo's all I hear…

of the promises… and the lies…

that you delivered to me so well,

imprisoned by the silence

of ringing broken bells.

Copyright © 2004 Stone Bryson.  All Rights Reserved.

Written April 1994

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