What Is Done: A Collection

Written by Andy Naranjo

THE STARE

 Oh the faces they stare

longing for the flesh 

within every crevice and wall

the faces of death

oh how they weep

they mourn

for just the scent

of the lying rot

that is to be my end

WHAT IS DONE

Beware of what is done

Beware the shadow cast against the sun

Beware the snake in the nest that devours your love

Beware the uncertainty that splits what was one… 

Beware of what will come

STUMP

Rooted 

Just as the trees around

Unable to leave 

these ghastly grounds

Whomping its wing

Fluttering about

It is grotesque

Misshapen

Without eyes or mouth

It cannot hear 

the desperate sounds It creates

It cannot breathe 

the odors It radiates

From the foot to skies

I can feel its dread

Increasingly trying

to leave this coffin

I shutter at the sight

Tried to relieve it this pain

But its skin to a stone

Is a force that remains

Coursing through the feathers

The iron of struggle

With only a twisted appendage

It is true this thing is muzzled

Unable to die

Or to fly

Both here without the answer 

As to why