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Garden of the Gods, at Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Garden of the Gods, at Colorado Springs, Colorado.

Garden of the Gods, at Colorado Springs, Colorado. And the next lines of the poem...

Bone to Bone, Pt 2
by g d tошиѕнеиdе (Copyright © 2011)
"We speak and you hear us, for this you were chosen;
"We speak, not in chorus; our words are ambrosian.
"We cry, yell, and squander, our lives all a-broil;
"We kick, scratch, and fight through such wretched turmoil.

"You put us through hell, for this is your task,
"And as you write through,... please... take off the masque.
"For we must speak freely, we shall not be censored;
"Please, grant us our freedom, or you shall be censured."

This poem is incomplete. I've struggled too much with the lines that follow, and when struggle ensues, it's better to let go 'cause it ain't gonna flow.

Garden of the Gods, at Colorado Springs, Colorado. And the opening lines to a poem, written just tonight...

Bone to Bone, Pt 1
by g d tошиѕнеиdе (Copyright © 2011)
What are these voices that float through my head
Like soured plum visions in a dead Christmas bed?
They call from afar through a veil dark in hue,
As if trapped in a jar. —Can you hear them, too?

They call out and whisper, each speaking my name,
Revealing their lines, saying, "No! Not a game!
"What we say isn't fancy; nor is it yours alone;
"Our words you must share them, you must share bone to bone."

I'm not satisfied with the second line.

Taken earlier in the evening that same day (12/12).