Black Fireworks

Dear readers,

Another poem. Hope you enjoy.

Black Fireworks

Pumping heart and out of breath. Silent darkness foghorns such lucid fears.

Every life fuck up weeds through joys, sucking it and dismantling it from thoughts.

Left like a broken skittle in the wake of a loathing locomotive passing through.

Foes’ faces kidnap and smother my slumber; tomorrow’s barrel is loaded with threat.

Pills, potions and therapy; kick in or fuck off, along with God’s false hopes in intense prayers.

Demons have taken His place, sultrily enticing me to believe what’s already slapped upon my stares.

He whispers it. He breathes it. He screams it. Like a black firework, etched as a display in the night’s tepid air.

Caressing words. So natural. Desirable. Easy coming. To abide by. Give in. You want to.

Dropping. Like a sin. Almost sweetly to defeat. More relieving than a release of tears.

The faces. They would lose their power. The scars though. They last for years.

Like this. A numb trauma. Shifts nerves. Distortion.


About Nicholas Rogers

I am an English journalist/copywriter living in Tegucigalpa, Honduras, and I have been here since 2011. I originally came to work with Casa Alianza, which supports street kids and vulnerable youths. I then stayed on, after meeting Pamela Cruz Lozano, who calls me her adopted Catracho. I work freelance in journalism and I have my own translation business. Why did I come here? For the challenge, to open my mind and leave my comfort zone. I love literature and I've written a book with street kids. I write novels, short stories and poetry, all of which you'll find on this blog, as well as masses of information about all things Honduran. View all posts by Nicholas Rogers

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