elemental, hollow.

pageant of ministry your misgivings given to sullen star-clad nonchalant Comings and goings Imprint upon us, this living I do not want what you wear as I no longer care to displace, yours or mine, this distaste, take a masque fitted on face,  misplaced here is no longer safe I can no longer call you home. timeworn tellings, erode, peel story lost its’ appeal cold iron piercing will not heal maniacal raving sounds to my ear as though you are leaving. dear one, hold onto your throne as I extract this fire from bone I am alone. always Always, a … Continue reading elemental, hollow.

Future is the past is the future past

two moons and two suns implications of movement abrasive, heaving of iron lungs implicit in the breathing archetypes assail conclusion finding is desolate and broken desensitized neuromancer weave cords of copper a burglar is re-imagined smoking jacket highs confounding orbs can no longer absorb refraction of everything now only comes in pieces cement is colder than one would think flood is more than earth can drink when did life become a story with such furious editors retake the scenes reality indebted to shadowed creditors no longer aware which of us won. in-between two moons and two suns image courtesy of … Continue reading Future is the past is the future past

where?

fetching, impetious impetus for wine horizons bless’ed or become prey infectious, intelligence it doesn’t matter what you’ve got on you can claim me imperious, impervious scrape back the foam Turkish coffee grit showing in smiles all around blue filter-light integral to this scorn that adorns features of a rag-a-bone man playing take me home on his gramophone I watch you shift, cloudless pleased to be pleasing all the lush bastard boys hanging out on patios Camels and Coors…. I laugh about your arrogance sigh reverence satin speak crawls into the nape of my neck I shudder, chills, delight where will … Continue reading where?

Ring Of Hemlock

I arrive in time to forget to gather myself for the fall oak, leaf, ash, hemlock Sacred pushing and pulling, seismic the grip of adulation I coalesce the notions of ardor gather and weave the wreath of Tristan and Gwenhwyfar armor burnished the colours of morning forests and rolling hill the mists are dew on my tongue but not to beguile, lo to harken unto maiden fair laissez faire, drift upon cloaked clouds of her breath and seek harbor in her breast as an embraced ideal of peace as equals, in part to impart the bond of love so deep … Continue reading Ring Of Hemlock

Sarajevo

only the good die young, she said, on her way to Sarajevo I saw her face again in a former life. As the rain spatters against my window pane I am reminded of the love which left a stain that just don’t wash away. As she walked away, I felt a tidal wave, I dreamed this day, but in the dream it did not go this way but that’s life I guess I know. Flying cranes and paper planes remind of her voice it was like swimming in the daffodils and surrendering to all you fought against I wish there … Continue reading Sarajevo

make Believe

Kiss kiss and make-believe. Former slaves no longer free. That’s not me. I am not free to be. One or three. Coarse touches in loving hate. Touching my body but not my face. Clean the plate and do not be late to the falling of the city gates. Wrap yourself in flags and olive leaf. I still do not believe. Conceive the intricacies in which to populate the morning news hypocrisies. More or less punctuating the state of our loose skin and crumbling facade disease. Unease creeps up into the playground of the democracies. Where we go and what we … Continue reading make Believe

Live Mi

The cannibals have eaten All of the good choices Beseech the gladhanders Upon the beach of glamour One shoe too large One sock too small Selling all the lamest fashion At the brand new unnecessary shopping mall Overpaying spoilt youth to be rude To the people who need the work the punishment rarely meets a crime the shine is off poor dustbin grins the Tower is crumbling and the mad scramble for bread boxers boxing in boxers with martial art run from the wind and rain I’m feeling something here some may call it pain some may call it a … Continue reading Live Mi