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VEINS

In the dark
a wash of fear
chills
Sounds of voices
doors shutting..
cars turning over

Hush hush
return to sleep

The moons eye
falls in the black
never go back
shadows of bed
Everyone else
sound asleep

Years later then
can sleep through
the greatest of
bombardments
and Wolves in the storm
at the forest edges
We Have to cross
the fields

I close my eyes and see
Burroughs beloved
hit the floor
Someones daughter
someones sister whom
cared about her

She rose cajoled
found her way
beyond typewriters
and boredom
and lines in rolled
bills
the spikes and
color parties
over cards
and carefree
soundtrack ways

Did he send roses
her way or tend
her grave
Where are the songs
he Loved into her
beneath a full moon
or was he of another
landscape system

Veins slapped on hardy
Hustle Arms of might
surfing sanding roofing
surviving
jobs at hand
crawling beneath
the skin
like mortalities karma

Sextons keyfob
dangling in her fingers

Tonight the moon toils
and I love Her Labor
September made her
pregnant
all that haze and
Colors worn
alive on the street

You can sleep together
uncovered on the
sheets
open and exposed

..

Editing stage: 

Comments

In addition to the exquisite imagery that you always paint, I love the sonic pace and the rhythm of your pieces. Seem perfect for the our everyday's life.
This is a breath taking piece even if not being able to comprehend its subtext.

❤❤❤❤❤❤

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

Follow me
www.instgram.com/rularules1

and then....I could carry water..dig holes..drag home the dead dogs hit
on the highway and cut holes with a chum in the frost..two feet thick...
say a prayer..put down tobacco and keep going next weekend...
Pull car crash idiots from a drunken wreck...a man of power and his
whore..suitcases busted open with his wifes folded ironed shirts...
still we put the fire out...dragged him out....and kept on going to work..
construction job....I cranked out dreamy fancy teen angst Airy works
and then walked into life or life walked into me...The hardcore fancies
walking me through like Pinochio on Pleasure Island....Oh How I
wanted to be that damned fox.....Eventually....the storms went on
about me and those that dug out the survivors from the ruins would
talk to me....those in transit whom still smelled of the terror and fear
would give me lifts.....I felt like a ghost....I want to run screaming into
the sunny street at times....or into the moonlit night...But small
jobs need doing...things most people cannot do or cant do or wont
do...take time...make time...have a fit to get the voice and direct and
motivate those that can work a crowd into action start things moving.

Every story starts with the first word

we are not showing pics....we are showing paintings and slide shows...clips and stills..
of a creative essence as was said By a teacher here...Our souls!

I live in a basically dark but sound city....But I just came in from a smoke after a long
exhausting day of errands and work....What If we got hit with a seven magnitude earlthquake..what them.....what if our neighbours five miles away shelled us and shot us...and we still had to go to work...worship...play...exist.....like sarejavo and bosnia in their times.....like Ukraine now....

Thank You Rula for this most gracious and heartfelt comment.....I drink my coffee black and smoke american cigarettes sold in canada from rez's for cheap.....What kind of summer coffee and drink would you take if we sat for poetic chat?

I am in a good mood today....the more I free myself the better....

Thank You!

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