The Bells

bells rang from afar

            dissonant

sounding of

something terrible and discordant

            approaching

chiming through the solemn raindrops

without meter

without

rhythm without

            beat

or         breath

as the pitches decayed

                        dropping lower and lower

with the dark and grey sky as

the echoes shrank

and the horizons edged closer

and closer

and

even closer still

until...

the bells tolling for the wicked time

laid the sounds of peace to rest

drowning the damp air with ugliness

and each inhale —

            filled with an uglier stench —

of rot

of filthy people

pressed down

            on empty graves

and wilting trees that curl up

and lonely children that curl up

pressing

and depressed

            and the bells

ring still

            ringing on up into

the black clouds

endlessly

without remorse

until

only faint overtones

remain

stuck in deaf ears

imprisoned in
            choked hearts