The stream (all workshops)
boltish bluish
what do you say
of bolts
where from heaven
they like missiles are fired
where on earth is it not a blue circle
the sea
the horizon
distant ocean
the Nile
the nails
all indicate the bluishness of creation
soft serene calm
also inter woven with a tinge
The monster speaks
my humour reeks
outward bile leaks
somewhere it peaks
downward it streaks
apologise, I'm meek
Today so hot so hot so hot
I lay in bed and thought,
Get up? Not.
Allowing the warm breeze to caress
My naked body without stress
I had some dreams I will not share
Though you know that I would dare.
My epitaph will be, I promise
“I’m glad I didn’t spend
more time at the office”
Oh; Beware!
The scandalousity of the acidicly,
addictively, seductiveness;
that surrounds the basic winter of your malcontent!
Cold
cannot be defined by words
from the skies of this dimension;
yet that same and exact dimension possesses the finesse
to coerce
your breathing inside the clouds to ease
and believe in a comfort, from a language of fools!
Pitiful,
the plight
of the sorrowfully motivated people.
There can never
be any gain from a pain that prefers to leave....
Out of the thousands of physical miles.
Comes a thought,
The thought crossed the time and distance.
Faster than light.
Held within that thought is a woman,
That has been all that a woman could be.
Then some.
I walked the dusty path and peered into her ways.
In there was a mother, who's light was a beautiful blue.
This is the best of all colours for a light to be.
I shielded my eyes
Lest I should take some of that light myself.
This would garner my own Spirit’s ways.
Of all the creatures that
have crossed the page,
my favourite of all
is the White Sage
Passing through time
from magic sands,
it was gifted her Story
went through the lands
From trails of snails
and the twitter of birds,
nature alone
passed on the word
Her beauty does shine
and challenge the light,
the twinkle of eye
glows sapphire at night
A gown flowing free
of golden hue,
and the cord at waist
a rainbow of blues
Point Omega
(to Don Delillo)
The mind sees through scaley eyes
gelatinous atoms inside are oozing
flinging electrons into others, lazily
rapid fireflies colliding.....sparks
consciousness is weary, grown sphinx-like, tired
The eternal experiment has failed again
it's designs fall to the will
of the pack
gold verticle eyes point the gene of destruction
There are times that I am not supposed to be here.
I should be sitting on your lap
Telling you about the dream I had in gym class
Or maybe just kissing you
I should be tangled in your blankets
Swimming around pillows
Trying to find you
I should be feeling something more
Than the hollow ring of the bell in me
That resembles my voice
I should be hearing your body sing
Breath passing over me
Pull in, push out
coma penchant
threaded fears invaded
the oil crisp slide
a dream touch away
lanolin burn creme
pervaded
soft as that Autumn blush
cropped and tender brush
while a moist wind of river
groped the poplar rush
high arcade crystal
cd spinner
come in from the hate
of that dark breath
full of night
you smell of
stars
and the wounds of
ache
overflow their grave
like a sure Lost Love
the nails across my
throat and heart
Leaves stampede across the ground
fleeing from the winter cold
they scurry with a rustling sound
as last days of the year unfold
They'll each end their sprint somewhere
some might fetch up on a log
others lift into chill air
perhaps they'll land in a deep bog
This winter wind cuts to the bone
turning sedge fields into seas
little wonder I'm alone
few would brave such cold brisk breeze
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