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love letter #16

some friday mornings
i feel like a poet
watching city rats emerge
from their blood shot eyes,
the chrome fume nights

and the decent people
going to work are
pretending not to see

dressed in glass stockings
with whore blurred lips

i too want to disappear
into my cave, slink like
lounge lizards,
to sleep off the
woes
that wash over
other people
like holy water

to call and ask
if we can watch the eagle
fly across saturday's
windy air-dried sheets

Alternative

Mono-cultured, molded hard
by centuries of God and Science
to fit all narrow views
of harsh judgemental rule
and smug sureties
of so-called facts,
we move through life
as sightless as smooth worms
through blinding earth
or blackest ocean,
segmented lives
squirmed lightless underneath
impossible twin depths
of scientific fact
and doctrinal belief.

spoken through clouds

swirling eyes
closed inside closets
the black
seeps into my blood
as your voice
weaves stories
outside of a star's warmth

pulling heart
I sweep
sleep
from the sun,
cover myself in silence
waiting
waiting
as if floating
outside of body realms

a click of light
in the dark,
the need
that pulls breath to you
from me
and I fall
from heaven's door

Daddy

Daddy

The door slams shut just like every night
I hear his heavy footsteps climb the stairs
I slide deeper and deeper below the cover
Maybe tonight I'll be free from nightmares

The dark of night brings a beast to my bed
No dreams of fairies, just terror instead

My door swings open, just like last night
I hear his laboured breath as he closes in
I screw tight my eyes and hold back tears
My body freezes as he touches my skin

The dark of night brings Daddy to my bed
No shining Knight, just horror instead

SQUALL LINE STORM

Far thunder
at mountains' base and lake's source
accompanied by a rush of ripples
here at the dam
miles distant

All but die hard boats scurry
toward safe marinas and the shore
water becomes more nervous
as gathering storm approaches

Now the first strobe comes in sight
and evening sun surrenders
to purple clouds
in fear
nervous wavelets break down
to white topped swells
as interval between flash and rumble
decreases

"After You Touch"

Think of the future,
not only the past,
think of the reasons,
relationships don't last.

Remember your actions,
and the things you can change,
fix all those things,
that your lover finds strange.

Give your heart freely,
with no strings attached,
give yourself over,
so you're equally matched.

Take a walk through the park,
sit on the swings,
take a moment to listen,
as a lovely bird sings.

Miasma

Sensuous orb warms my skin
causing a smile.
Peaceful and sanguine

Light lingers throughout the morning.
lunchtime arrives,
life remains pleasurable.

Flat grey clouds weave
thier way and intersperse,
between the puffy white.
In a late afternoon miasma .

Night fall swallows luminous day
the moon’s distant pale,
invades .

Is There No End To This Road

.
on the path of light
a patch of shade
shall I dwell a moment
in respite
and familiarity
playing shadow games
with memories

or shall I don
my heliotropic sunglasses
bare the harsh awakenings
and walk beyond
trailing shadows
until "that which is not known"
releases me

pacing
a circular rut of indecision
as if I really had a choice

Failing States

States are Failing

Why?

Because its food and resources are gone
Once striving, self-sufficient states
Abundant with food and grain
Can no longer sustain its people
Leaving them angry and rebellious

Why?

Because man is destroying the earth
Deforestation, out of control logging
Top soil being washed away
Leaving the land barren
Unable to nourish its inhabitants

What’s happening?

peptic

he can't say he missed the poetry
life imitated his perversion to
create something from an image

he wrote cynical love
of drunken penmanship
and none at all
when he tried sober
for distant reasons
to please her
gave logic a lean
to how the world seemed
as long as she liked him

morality it appears
makes alleys out of cats
even when the purr
is heard on the line
before the claws strike home

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