Fallen Angels

Rhinestones on the bushes,
gossamer in the trees,
when you hear her call your name
it drives you to your knees.

The sky will build cathedrals
that rise beyond your sight,
the leaves will show their colors
and lift you with their light.

Her blood as hot as coffee
in a bone-white china cup,
her eyes can light your cigarette,
but you don’t mind burning up.

Her secret skin is buttermilk,
her form too good for god,
her love is like the smell of sea
where glaciers go to thaw.

You are both fallen angels,
that’s what you are,
trying to grasp this truth of bone
so near and, yet, so far.

We are all fallen angels,
above us only sky.
We are all fallen angels,
forgotten how to fly.

(You can hear the musical version of Fallen Angels here: http://jamesrichardstewart.com/music/ )


Borrowed this image from http://rapgenius.com/Angel-us-god-over-everything-lyrics#note-2268286

About Jim Stewart

Writer at Butt in Chair
This entry was posted in Dream, Lyrics, Music, Poem, Reprint, Sex, Speculative Fantasy and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Fallen Angels

  1. surely like your web page and you must take phone spelling in a few of your content. A lot of them tend to be rife using spelling challenges we realize its extremely bothersome to express to the fact on the other hand I am going to surely can come once more again.

  2. narble says:

    Reblogged this on Narble Furt Lives and commented:

    Changed a line that’s been bugging me since I wrote this.–jrs

  3. cindy knoke says:

    Lovely imagery and so evocative~

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.