Come, come no closer

Comes and goes, this human condition in form of song and arrows scatterglass and primrose. Forgotten lessons relearn’ed all fears made soluble saline, and erosion last one to be saved find death in memory live with dying entente trace sacred promises in condensation upon windows and doors faces and floors caught with naught, except misspellings, condemnation a wolf howls pain wolves howl our names wind knows our shame in caricature, above windowpane rain is always cold hear, chanting chittering how do we survive malaise and madness copper burning, obstruction swollen knuckles whiten holding on for, oh dear striving for knives’ … Continue reading Come, come no closer

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?

low

vertical, this vertigo pulling at lips dusky corners, beseeching. hand-me-down run-around doe eyes, darkness. timber, pine cinders wind the clock upon mantle counting time since before war or two for me, you. This diffidence is feral, infantile. Claim the field reddening grasses tattered flags, satin. linen you lie in hyperbole distance color of indigo weeping softly, so soft, as to capture whisper fine mesh chinois filter sound to only meaning. sagging braggadocio quiet politicos sign double entendre. Where now will your breath go? keep it slow. ever, ever so very low.   image courtesy of Pinterest         Continue reading low

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