Gutter Born Glory

By Lee La Morte

Lee La Morte takes life experiences, relationships, mental illness and more and presents it in a collection of freeform poetry. This collection trace a path across Lee's life, delving deep into woes with grungy intensity and showing highs with an ethereal flourish. Lee is deeply engaged with the world and conveys these insights with lyrical perc

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee La Morte
• Release date: Nov 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781736176214

Lee La Morte

Lee La Morte is a USA based novelist and poet with a passion for the surreal, obscure, and ethereal. Writing from personal experiences, elaborate inner worlds, and daydreams.

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Gutter Born Glory

Copyright © 2020, Lee La Morte

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, store in a database and/or published in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Paperback: 978-1-7361762-0-7

EBook: 978-1-7361762-1-4

Icarus and the Fallen

Against crystal clear waters

The sun turned you to glittering gold,

Dripping thick molten bronze,

Like honey backlit by the bonfire.

Young and foolish I watched dusk swallow the horizon

Hopped along tilted stones to avoid the sparking embers.

Icarus to the blazing sun, I felt myself drawn

Tempted by the phoenix,

Too blind to see the falling ash.

When you’re gone, this wasteland falls to the wails of vultures.

In a limbo of maddening melancholy

Those clouds never part,

There’s no end to the rain,

Each droplet rattles and hisses against the cracked earth

And my poppy fields turn to rot under the waning moon.

They left warning of the scorched earth you leave in your wake

When your soft touch ignites the dense brush,

It was written in blood on the same white sandy beaches we met,

But I found protection in sunglasses the sweetest shade of rose

Where everything was painted over in tones of pink.

There’s a familiar rising heat when you’re back, distorting the world

Consumed with this swelter, thermal stress to ivory.

Quenching my thirst in the boiling waters of the mirage,

Wondering for a moment how I’ll ever face the cold again.

Quarantine Queen

Heart of a heathen,

Baptized on black ice.

Feeding on a festering disease,

Drowning beneath

The congealed blood of the lamb.

No ‘good lord’ here to bring her home.

Her voice rages through these weak hearts

Like a plague, no cure enough to break the cycle.

Beloved by the leaches and pariahs.

A betrayer God in a lopsided crown,

Gutter born glory,

This