ancients believed a special limestone disolved the corpse
or something like this..
gem cutter...dream stars
flesh is the wheel we grind our wants needs drives
into heart faceted love lust obsessons
leaning into it
pressing it forward
chasing the dragon of that forever

the corpse great loves locked in iconic photos
and pressed flat in preserved memory

a tatoo a scar where bright love burned its
ember deep having fallen on hard times

the gauntlet run in harsh valleys
tumultous claim staking and rejections

twisting truths to preserve that which
bleeds out

arrows of words slain hope
and yet even wounded
pride makes the mark
its quiver

"its okay I';ll just hold these
for you... right here through my heart!!"

sarcasm and darkly funny

and then the distortions of language
becomes its own language after awhile

like sleep talking as Ive always said
or dementia the brain fading from
crash or disease and those caretakers
left with the fragments of words and
memories from yesterday or a youths
conquest or loss....

I m happy that your creative soul caught
this and enjoyed its ambling run
YOu dont know how I am grateful to
you for this

Thank You Judyanne!

Poor brains can see what richly fed immobile brains cannot
patterns that rise in abstract to form into thoughts
I love abstract art

imagine how abstract the fifties were when poetry
in america was starting to gather momentum in the
coffee houses and apartments and bars
where the quiet or flamboyant young men and women
of their day were on that wave america was growing

and elsewhere too

when it was Hip
like Our ancient generation today picking up the sayings
of the youth rather then try to push it away like my generation
parents disliked the hippies

the power of the new is alive
the working of form and style
of course it will never be for every one
but it was for every hundred
and more

the greats did not stop but kept
on writing as it was their passion
to continue

much like we do here
poetry is a way of life

thank you Lonnie