tiny wellies
I was bottle-fed from the very start,
A parental shame at an adequate
Temperature. Just right to set, like
Concrete in my tiny wellies, just right
To shape the path that lay ahead.
Untitled (11003)
the fairies no longer visit,
empty winds have ground the
river to a halt
dreams churn like crude stones
among the bones of so many orchards
rue, now lipped to my wrist which
dangles a pale bone and withers
regret, my body
unfolded soft and drunk with silence,
consumed by the leech asleep beneath
my ribs and somewhere, blunt
weapon
the crushing failure of words, the sea
a blue membrane of something secret
and forgotten
it is a chamber bloodied with the self,
the soul, broken instrument, fueled
by the illness of longing
what names do I call? Elektra, Kassandra,
the poor, embittered Helen
each garden I have loved but have never seen,
each fountain that will pass as my life passes,
and how one must slump
and stumble to guess at death’s constancy
so the willow paints its dark, whispy fingers
against the breadloaf of a heart, crushed
and repentant
if only to glimpse, for a moment, the prayer
of between-world mist, fertile
and full with strangeness
When read out loud, wow; wow; … wow
Untitled (11004)
wondering if
the neighbors woke
the hens
noticing the difference
between being in
community
or merely a member
{fractal dickhead}
of the audience
wondering if
the neighbor’s woke,
the hens
noticing the difference
between being in
community
or merely a member
{fractal dickhead}
of the audience
She Wallowed
She wallowed among the inbread.
Behind the shadows of sameness
She found no comfort, no reason
To refuel the depleted cells of
Vanity. His last touch had felt final,
Like an expectation of finding a
Bargain among the scraps, of
Something long lost; nowRediscovered.
“Got It Too Good to Cry”
I can write dark poetry
almost any day of the week
It spirals through my veins
It defines my every blink
…
Days that are good
I rarely express
I’m too busy being happy
To compare them to the rest
….
I’m sorry I’m ungrateful
incognizant, at the least
of how good I got it
every time the symptoms cease...
Poem by @fifty-shades-of-apathy
Talons
My talent, a lucky charm beneath
Skies of open fire, a solitude of
rain in dissonance with my subtle
Future rage; of powers drained from
Solid State Batteries as if they really
Mattered to meHear me now
Naked I stand before you
Naked I stroll nimbly
Naked talents; underdeveloped mischief.
My lucky charm a
Talent wasted,
My rage against the
Times like these,
The unfounded upsets &
The scores of treacle
Dripping, like the days of us;
Kitchenless children inHibernation
The Present
There is no day like the present.
Dancing along the boulevards of
Saké, picking up the leftover dreams
From the ones that crawled before
Us, not needing the scissors to
Cut the ties that bound; that tied and
Limited the life force given.
I accept my destiny as set in stone,
The magical word is --Presence
Q & A
There are no answers
To the worry I frequently feel
Of running out of words
Of no longer finding air
To breathe
To fly
To be
AnotherThere are no answers
To the silence behind the white space
Between the tabs and unpunctuated
Patternless drivel of lunacy
La Luna shrouded in
No mysteryThere are no answers
As no questions are really asked
Of you
Of me
Of honest folk
To carry us forward
Beyond the calling of the dark dreams
There is more of us
More of truth —in stories
The shipment of stories bound
As the wind of destiny blew the
Curtains wide
I stared down the spinning wheel and
The offering of time
~
In the shallow waters of the ancient well
I saw your truth as you did tell of
The fire, the love, of death once
Mourned
No longer our glue, no longer our
Moment
~
We prayed to gods of parcels
For those waiting to receive
Our minds aligned to the delivery
To the magical — unboxing
~
And so the story ends
With a promise that today
The shipment of stories bound
Is coming your way
all good words lost at sea
I once attempted to write of love
Of the light that shines above
Then the storm came and the
Ship sank
Most of the good words lost at depth
Only the dark and hollowly expressed
Ever resurfaced