workshop
twenty miles to the gallon
with a short stroke
hardened cam and
ported polished
she growls when i
drop the hammer
drone down the interstate
white line flashing like
deaths rib
twin cherry bombs
throbbing
bolted down
to the iron Interceptor
hauling ass
nightmare marauder
thundering
and a Python magnum
in a slip holster
wrapped in its thin
belts
beneath the Dickie jacket
flip rear seats
and sleeper style
detroit girl
jewel of the nile
I'm thinking now in rhyme and verse
perhaps I'm going mad...
or fallen prey to poet's curse
a notion I find sad.
When driving down the road alone
ideas flood my mind.
Poems, rough, bereft of hone
jumble through my skull and grind.
tentacle ten table
octopus wing oscillate
quaterfoil moulded splayed lea
banqueting from Brighton
Saunders tapered padded
paneled sea trails cut brass
trellis elixir sprayed aprons
outline eastern wise men
dragons of habitual
above their firmament
inlay of prominence, water colour view
combining Gothic and oriental elements
electric fantastical fanatical
a message deliver,
the arrival of a new lover is near
we all love roses
my dear,
never of the thorns ever fear
they prick just slightly
you are used to severer ones
so let all roses speak for you
your love
she must earn
in the desire of innate love
she may like to,
like a simple butterfly burn
beautiful roses she will get in return
On a wisp of wattle
that cradled in the fig,
a dreaming began,
as sleep draped veils
to nurture a gleam into
dazed eyes,
as mantles of moonbeam
wreath temples
I fell to,
A gathering cluster
that saturated all reality,
a sculptor with tool
set about carving
a bird of paradise
as form finished
it flew away
A dove birthed
from a painters brush
and wiggled free to
splash the canvas of black
staining its feathers
in obsidian
NO VACANCY
blurry satellite idle
hot dry air on your naked legs
in the shadows your eyes
drift hot and tender
your anger sharp as a shiv
beneath our atrocity fields
flutter memories
like fresh crystalline snowfall
pure and cut right
boxes of black and whites
sepia in the drawn open
hideaway lights
toes on the radio knob
and a cigarette from
cinnamon lips
shift the crooked hip
never healing from the crash
the metal plates
and skin graphs
Were l able to truly play guitar
like the masters of the art,
I'd play for you the sweetest melodies;
then afterwards, within your eyes
I'd be inspired then to write,
with that feeling flowing through me like a breeze.
I wish l better understood
the meaning of my life,
or better yet the meaning that is yours;
then afterwards, within your heart
my vision would then clear,
and l'd comfort you whilste opening your doors.
I can't remember
the shape of your eyes
but the glance I still do
as beautiful as invisible
as calm as afraid
Because here
in the mountain
darkness is draping me with fear
And I feel that someone is walking behind me
If I turn back
I extinguish myself
I cease
I watched as you sleep
on the old bed,
seeing your skin bears
the lines of age...
Your love have lit my life,
guiding me to be
the man I am
meant to be
Each time I fall
you were there.
You lift me up
because you care
When I was unwell,
you used to cradle me.
In your strong arms,
I could hear,
you pray for me
Now you are old and feeble,
unable to move freely.
Your bones always ache
when the weather gets ugly
Sundays too my father got up at dawn
and put on his clothes in the dim lit barn.
Then with oaken hands that ached
from labor of lumbering
he banked fires .No one thanked him.
I'd wake and hear the cold raspy roar.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call
and bellow. I would rise and dress
fearing the rousing angers of that house,
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