The stream (all workshops)
distant drums did beat
that lonely night
when I was all alone
sleeping in the veiled forest
life seemed to drudge along
there was none to hear my song
in the far distant time at night
I heard drums on my transistor
some folks were like me
in a far off jungle merrying
they must have been lonely too
but they were enjoying
as much as I wished to
Look at that old couple there
slowly strolling their own way
him with hardly any hair,
while hers has become streaked with gray
as younger crowds swirl all around
And while they walk their private path
they smile and recall days gone by
sometimes sharing a soft laugh
quickly absorbed by blue sky
as if there'd never been a sound
The black dog
caught up with me
darting from shadow
to shade, I see the
bloodshot eyes
of a rabid hell
he stalks with ears laid back
slowly baring white fangs
my legs turn to jelly
the end may be here
In silence I give in
walking into the mist
with the smell of death
permeating everything
there is no running now
no escape from his hell
I am bound to watch
as he rips at my entrails
my last breath is ready
The darkened moon was somewhere
I could feel it on my skin
Like a cold embracing tomb-shroud
As the stain of age-old sin
I roamed this ancient city
Only shadows did I meet
In the ramparts,on the rooftops
Twisted shadows in the street
China Doll
With eyes of glass
Cry invisible tears
Each time you pass
Molded lips
painted red
Silent words
Never said
Carelessly tossed
With all the scraps
One of life's cruel mishaps
Broken limbs
Tiny pieces
Glued haphazardly
Alone she sits
In her misery
gaunt thirst
tethered against a tight leash
scope focused
upon the cull
slender thigh
silk covered
backlit sun
beneath the underbrush
soft rainfall upon parched lips
reason smears
wet upon the trigger
locked unloaded
instincts bewail
the execution
deep tracks
history muddles the clean trail
excrement offerings
sign the pursuit
history of knowledge
experience honed
he bends to kiss the trail
reverence sharpened
indecision cautioned
hunter hunted
she falls
backboned and heel bare
struck
alive with light
television blare
her blonde perfect head
the angel mouth
there are wildfires of
storms ringing through
a fresh mind
lightning in her arms
tightening her spine
the thunder realms
vibratto
gran mals her gram
says
her ovid pupil
relfecting the worried
smile
of the youthful inflection
..
Slumber,
that happening at night,
take hold the sheets,
pull over me,
capture my dreams,
breathe my breath
in gentle streams of heart beats.
The witching hour is nigh,
no stars,
no flares of light,
opaque the purple sky,
as if the dawn were swallowed up for good,
would never show its face again,
becoming black oblivion.
As I, one human being being,
soon shall die.
I sit atop the Frozen Throne
The Light of the World grows dim.
As foretold on the primeval stone
The dark crept in, with barely a whim.
The frosted air dances at my feet
My ambitions burn
welding me to the Throne
The Earth murmurs
crumbling as I stare at the unending night
I hear the World's last beat
The skies churn
breathing a thunderous moan
Souls tremor
searing in brimstone, no end in sight
room and stockings
traffic lights cast judgement
through
greasy panes
as they dance
silhouettes of indifference
unknown breath
expensive strokes
upon cold skin
time spins slowly
as the hungry belly awaits
coup de grace
puny life
looted
rations scraps
the feast
of burlesque nights
swathed in deaden sweat
unwashable repent
upon tarnished opulence
thoughts swim
as body awaits its fee
cast upon the table
I bow to thee
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