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DREDGEPRIMORDIA

Magnetron squeeze
thrown out against the edge
holding on at the eternity brink
the aura fires roiling
like blue stark morning

squeeking hinge vault width
an aperature
full of nights aromas
a dry dustdevil spin
on the shadows of day
grounded fast
like a bad idea

timid and shy
the first cocktail
lush lust preparation

on a riddled junction
the happiness of
madness like a gas
sheen on a sprinkler
puddle
the lawn gone
fired tinder dry
like bones tasting
an honest rush
water like sacred orgiastic
annointments
bringing back the dead
from the ghost home
of a shore forgotten

dead flies on the dashboard
the cracks like black runs
in cheap starlight welcomes
smudges on the windsheild
cupping the panorama
size six toes
and a tank bleeding
holes in the blue highway

where are the heroes
to tend the fresh
arisen
the wanderlost
with wounded wings
the dry frost heave
lips tending cigarettes
weary of the sun

the fine hairs catching
desert mirage winds
and awakening like
a chill
like chain lightening
on the spine
a shiver
to the erections
of monuments
of garish reason

i cleansed you
baptised you
annointed you
fresh from the
clavicle of night

you glitter of the
fires from the heaven
vibrations in the
desperado making
weak as neons
glow

you were an angel
grounded
seeking penance
on welcome mats
while the heat wavered
and maroon
clouds mourned

caught in the arms
of crosswire
silken hair
and ditch worn
souls
the blaze season
stroll
and the thousandth
mile
framed in the
luxury of a tinted
opera window

Maven Raven
thin
tremble curled
on cheap fabric
option
the dark leather
cracked and
forbidden
run savage with
calamity in pockets
with no names

chrome
and magnesium
gushing on the leaning
hoplessness
glittering on the
sunkissed open
flanks
the tender lip
glistening with sweat

salted as the damned
and searching forever
the earth
for the honesty
for the bereavement
of fantasy
and fullfillment
a hunger
crept in between
the shadows of the ribs
the sharp frown

Editing stage: 

Comments

crazy day may be?
Some verses put a smile Steve.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words
........Robert Frost☺

Follow me
www.instgram.com/rularules1

some great lines in this.....i guess im looking for the treasure hunter hoarder
to come scavenging here....they do from time to time..
i put them here because they will be tended...exist for awhile.
we dont have the poet group up here at all.
its been told i should be on the west coast or vegas or frisco
or anyplace but here....but there is this wild.....flat wavelength
like raw static.......its that exciting the non excitement..
the real shit goes on here like any other place..
its nuts out there.....no one wants to deal with that
and even then..people would still live..still have gatherings
and what not..prepare themselves as best the can and
survive......

all days are crazy Rula.....i see things from a different perspective
and it just comes out....full of an energy wayve from me
intense at times...just sitting on a lot of it..
lori says to shut up and stay quiet..
but shes not happy much either at times inside with
her calming television
and its mush for the most part..
it would be different if people came and kicked
in the doors and crashed televisions
but its a device to keep people from thinking
or use it to tell them things..
soma

i just use the net to look at historical
things..and other..
music a lot....

dredge is to dredge up the monster egos and ids sleeping
and left there..primordia.that part of our mind that can
survive great amounts of shit that goes on and somehow
sleep or no sleep and shift into the survival of a few more
hours....how we do it is impressive and not al do...
but thats the title....

the pre history to what we are today
and what shimmys and shakes in joy rapture
or terror that allows us to get our coffee our bread
and needs..smokes...some fun at a place..
dance..mall..bingo hall whatever works..

what is there to rebel against like the old days..
not much...
funny funny world now..

i look like a hippy..the long hair and vietnam
green military jacket from euro.
metal buttons..only thing dif from a military
jacket..i think the company makes both
and just puts civvie buttons on
but not a soul cares about how cool
this is but me.....the material is hardy
for going through the little bush stands
we have here with the dog..
and on the trails nd cutting through the
woods im thinking....we are just moving
we are not hunting truffles or sniffing
out explosives or people..we are not
going to get shot at maybe.....a few
things go on....but all the while im looking
for where trip wires might be...
looking for sharp objects we may step
on.....war was pounded into us..
thus the dredge us of title..

the helicopter school and airport
and hydro patrols and police choppers
moving people about are all up there
and they scare me...they can see and
they can hover...
i think if i was against them the power
they have up there....if i was just a land
based thing...i would have to move on
trails for miles and miles on the ground

what if something happened to my dog
what if you had a partner...
fam....i know we take so much for granted
here in our country..
we are complaining because the buses
run late....that the kids dont have thier
bus passes done on time...
why are they cutting pavement and repaving
lakeshore into sections
why do we have to wait six hours for medical
care which is paid for....the bus runs on
time now at the front door.
etc

i read much to understand why things are
important here...its heavy and deep at times
everyones on edge these days...no more loud
parties or fights anymore.....
underground...dredge..sublevels..

staring at stars to feeling the sub sonic waves
of conciousness..or something like this..
im not bright enough to tap into the great poetry
i have read here and there...

im trying to work at it though....
closest we get to wild are people
from far up north in the outer cities
mining towns.same all over
and the big bad ass city parts
...

a tamed life i admit..
but i got and do get along with
these folks..
they call me a madman too..
weird..not crazy..there is a difference..

i just write poems to keep me sane
so this is me sane.....ha ha ha ha

hope for us all isnt there!!

thank you

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