The Murder of Hope

Step on it good and hard,
make sure it is dead.
Hope under heel,
grinding into powder.

Slide that knife across skin,
hard and deep to be sure.
In a ditch like a missing person,
Hope lies bleeding.

Salt that wound and burn it,
coagulating under your heat.
Blood and dirt combine,
this sickeningly sweet murder excites you.

Toss the weapons aside,
no caring if they're found.
Your murder was metaphorical,
no reprisals are forthcoming.

poem by Brian Hinckley
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Epic Smile

Time slows;
then stops.
You have an epic smile,
shining brightly to challenge the sun.

You laugh with your soul,
eyes sparkling in the light.
You have an epic smile,
one I will never forget.

My heart leaps at your voice,
a smile shattering the gloom of life.
You have an epic smile,
brighter than a thousand suns.

I will think of you often,
though truthfully I already do.
You have an epic smile, my muse,
one that will always be with me.

poem by Brian Hinckley
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Love is Dead

Artistic brain-drain
occurring after loss-
when words fail and wither
on parched, broken lips.
Not knowing self from Self,
bouncing from warm bed to warm body-
Loss of identity and direction.
Wandering, wondering-
wishing on a shooting star, but
the stars above are ghosts long dead.

Artistic suffocation
occurring during rapture-
two bodies entwined;
legs, arms, hearts, all broken and
remade, though easily broken again.
Lost in a kiss, embrace; drowning in
raw lust, all stale and purple-
writhing under the dead dead stars.

poem by Brian Hinckley
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