workshop
Settling in the spring stirring
the lights focus dazed
an echo soft craving droplets
dripping velvet
tasting like candy
smokey darkness
enveloped in negatives
emerging like a chrysalis
pushed through hours
of longing
raised ghostflesh
through sheens of shirts
the buttons like moons
pearl and hardened
silk labels parch edged
rubbings against the
thirty three bones of
spine
I’ll tell you a story,
a true one.
It’s starts out boring,
but gets better.
I worked as a photocopier
(how demeaning is that?
when your job title is the name of your machine.)
But I digress.
I worked as a photocopier.
Not your little office machines.
Great big industrial motherfuckers.
(glad I’m not a great big industrial motherfucker)
I digress easily,
sorry,
it was a boring job.
Reproducing,
not life,
endless needless things seldom read.
(I’m getting near the interesting bit)
Woe is me oh
I am a torn soul
torn Torn
between two worlds’
One black
one gray
woe is me
a candle
A candle
in a storm
never enough light
to see the ground
upon which
are pieces of me.
Shattered, I am shattered
and I can not embrace
life or anything new
for my hands are, are torn,
torn and filled with
the jagged pieces of me.
Adrift, I am adrift
through life
an empty vessel
that longs only to be
filled with melancholy.
A crown of stars,
A gown of silken glory
will never suffice
to show what you mean to me
No man can understand
the stress of child-bearing
as one grows in your womb
through nine months of aching
No man can know the pain
of woman in labour,
risking her precious life,
giving birth to another
If I lose a good friend,
I can find another
but none can replace you,
Not now, not ever
That is why, Dear Mother
I will always love you
now and forever
this will always be
Mr. Butle was an older guy.
He'd hardly ever smile,
head always bowed and stature slumped,
most of his words were full of bile,
Yet everyone thought well of him,
he had that valued "Midas touch"
so most overlooked his grumpy ways,
his grumbles, frowns and such.
His wife always dressed to the hilt.
For an older lady she looked good
yet her smile seemed somehow cold
as she walked about the neighborhood.
I'm not sure how to begin
I haven't been into my feelings
For quite some time but then
I meet you crazy sexy appealing
In every way and by no means
Do I intend to let you slip away
You're like a dream that I deem
True. Serene, my brightest day,
My queen, my sweet escape
From the numbness, from the pain
The forced hate, the being afraid
To feel again. Truthfully, I'm amazed
At first, I wasn't sure how to begin
Nervous, this still being somewhat new
Dr Chaz I am near you
From the legends of Kali
I heard the churning of the Ocean
There the milk frothed and changed state
A poison I have brewed for my enemies
Madhva can relate this story true to you
It with me, are now locked in legend
Or so it is told to all men to deceive
Halahala will be mine to give too many
Even Vaya tried to make it weak
His winds could not reduce Halahala
A gift of the milky Oceans fury
Shiva he turned blue with just a sip
In a gold pot, held in the arms of Vaya.
When Sun bids adieu
the greens wave in gratitude
for keeping their grins
At night they enact their role
wiping some carbon footprints
Moon glides merrily
a ballet on starlit stage
the crickets applaud
Floral tributes greet at dawn
in rose buds speckled with gems
Somewhere in the trees,
a hooting owl greets the night
restless bats take flight
Spying on the moon,
a young crow is mesmerized
by her great beauty
Where fireflies gather,
tiny merry lights linger,
teasing the shadows
While the crickets sing
celebrating the dark hour
with their own rhythm
The night comes alive
with the sound of hunting beasts
fighting or survival....
Well, let me hold you!
We have many things to hold
what all you want to hold
just let me know
when you yourself are held,
no one will let you go
without breaking a weld
so hold on
I shall await
a message from you
till then I shall hold on
my prettiest one on to you!
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