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Toastie Oastie

Full moon sat on a window sill
Filtering through the panes
Into crystal whiskey heather fed
A gift given still savoured

Tunes out of tune
played with fingers on
skin drummed in today time
given over to sensation of pulse

Hill soaring stories from before
inclining to roof top angles
black and red burn brown bed
castle cloud monsters smile

In this house a long moon mile
can say in light, that which words
Have never said

who are you

Slow songs of love
Melodies of church women
Soft humming of kids with tears
Sorrow being the common feeling
All with smiles be faking
Pretending they're strong
Hoping they're not wrong...
For acting up

Factory Music

Hold the photograph
where her marble eyes
cut off the chinoiserie tea pot just
and force me to take this from you
This cellular gold stamp between a chance
and nothing
Her nose casting a shadow
in the darkroom’s catalog
because this is the only way
I can know her;
Through her ruin’s ministry,
the tempo’s dictate
dead as a phone line
in one moving picture’s end
Where she waits near the slab
as a sick cat pawing the cord’s
end as a moon garland.

Toast & A Jar Of Spam

we can think then relax a bit
take a sip or to of coffee until I give my foot a push
nestled in the very fabric of a fresh pile of manure
we stand clueless amidst the onslaught of big corporations & government...
peal back the wax to taste fresh air is it explodes through your nostrils
I was once there but I'm not anymore that was so 1984
so I explode inside as I taste the toast made out of hammer head boar remnants,

THE SEARCH

Every day in crowded towns
I see people rushed and worried
with downcast eyes and worried frowns.
Perhaps their lives are far too hurried.

Watch their eyes dash here and there
among the noise of modern living,
"hello"s rewarded with blank stare.
It's like we all are unforgiving.

And all day harsh sounds assail us:
television, traffic, radio,
people yelling as they fuss.
Noise and tensions grow and grow.

Terror

Hanging on the precipice of the future,
Disease and death stand by,
Suspended orbit, frozen space.
Hollow echo of water
droplets on concrete.
Spit popping in the back of throats
like the spines of rodents
under a sudden steel spring.
Shuddering gasps of trees
in the night. Shredded air
and tattered lungs,
mucous polyps searching in a vacuum.
Sodden butterfly wings,
immobilized leaden gossamer.
Translucent flesh and sunlight
flash bloodless and fresh.

One Last Time

Fuck it, one last time.
I want to try us last time.
It hurts that out of all our tries,
We have never worked out.
But perhaps
This time “we” will flourish.

You are the only person that I want something with.
You attract me in so many different ways,
Like the color black attracts heat,
Like a moth is attracted to light
You are my light.

I want to give you everything
Because you deserve nothing less.
I thought that I was the only person
Capable of loving you.

The journey of self love

She was like the caterpillar
a silent warrior
fighting her way through her cocoon
a battle she must win
as she alone must walk on this path of self love
she alone must fight for the change that will define her very existence
she alone must become the butterfly that she was meant to be

SHUT UP

.
.
there's a fire
on the back of my tongue
burning the words in my mouth.

there are no sounds.
there is no silence
from everything there was
where the truth is out.

the eyes shut
to see with a stiff upper-lip
stuck to the next
head on his stick
gush
and spirit away the taste

of decency

IDA AT NINETY-SIX

I tell my mother to go on living,
So she will answer the phone when I call;
Because if life is a cornucopia of hope,
There must be some redemption
In having suffered in loneliness.

The mind is sharp and the life force strong!
Yet she is a skeptic to god-
Doesn’t know, doesn’t care-
“What will be, will be.”

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