Saturday, December 12, 2009
The Twisting Voices
Each ticket bears a number
One child likes to lick it
The other stares in wonder
Old metal moves unbroken
Blue twisted rails cut out the sun
And between the rusted gates standing open
Confetti silhouettes chase air and run
Wrappers trace the beaten pathways
Crushed by little rubber souls
Feasts for flies in dim flickered rays
And pain for love in dark bouncing strolls
Dirty lights drape the complex surface
Flickering as the fat flies flutter
Leaving the moon a cold gray purpose
And giving small hearts a warm flushed stutter
Cities of steel curve through every scream
And the children climb every structure
The metal connects and breaks its seams
As small feat jump the gaps that rupture
Electric songs pulse through the rails
Sung by the voices hiding in the night
Their faces spoken soft and pale
Their words heard loud and fiery bright
Synthetic flags herald each winner
Smoke rising from their crowns
As smells of burning plastic simmer
Over smoothly cracked concrete grounds
The great metal contortion forever grows
Feeding off hotly contested tickets
Trampled by rubber feet that never slow
And picked up only by those who risk it
Each pocket holds a ticket
Each ticket bears a number
One child likes to lick it
The other stares in wonder
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Water Marks
Gushing like rivers from iron rusted spouts
The tall foundation saved its frame for some time
But the dark fluid snakes slithered and twined
Down the steep hills that protected our feet
To quench the rising sea so eager to greet
We crept on top the roof under thin paper cover
Waiting for blue sky and its dry burning lover
Damp heads fell low between soaking cold knees
Looking down upon our God's angry rippled seas
The darkness consumed so fierce and so fast
From storm cloud militia and the shadows they cast
Striking the sky blind with silent jagged swords
These armies marched loud with a viscous accord
Their thunderous clashes brought terror to the ground
Shaking the house with rough metal-born sounds
These booming cries of war grew loud and louder
Chanting to the winds who grew proud and prouder
The strong iron beams began to waver and shriek
Under the invisible fate the drizzled air seeks
I wondered if the house would fall before the waves
If the crying iron would bend to the rest it craved
If the wind could conquer before the seas could quench
If the water would scavenge us inch by inch
But soon the sea broke the crest of the foundation
Each drop adding depth to our drowned salvation
And soon the water slammed up against the tired walls
That briefly held us from a deep breathless fall
As moments seemed to reach their final hour
And the waves reached our faces closely cowered
The azure sky opened as quickly as it came
Cloud warriors bleeding through with a yellow flame
And we stood on the iron just feet from the sea
Holding the hands of us, the final three
But the water never fell, never receded
And never gave way to the land our hearts pleaded
So the sea held us captive and drowned all the trees
As we lived day by day off the liquid glass sea
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Watch quick liquids steal your form
As the current pulls you under the moon
Flowing whispers sounding soon
Now feel the light and watch cheerful faces
Take joy in all bright spaces
Where the ones you love tread soft and spoken
Your heart beats loudly woken
By the laughing voices touching your ears
Each cheek wet with joyful tears
And under lunar glow water is home
Built by the golden beams shown
Flow with these faces for the rest of time
Under light brightly lit kind
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Jinx
Subsisting on tapestries of thought
He eats existence from their seams
And drinks threaded hope once held taut
The fiend slips through brightly woven minds
Consuming the most vivid shades of essence
And in our pale digested fabrics we find
A roughly sewn childlike presence
So from this young cloth we must return
And witness our jinxes starve and fall
As we light the match and watch him burn
Our new forms breathe from ash and crawl
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Lots
Tip toeing toward their final tally
Edges churn over rough surface
With randomly driven purpose
Trip trip down the cement
Dying pairs sing their lost lament
And new born couples boast their power
A presence shortly sweet and sour
Dot to faces and face to dots
Whole lives revolve on random lots
On the aimless dance quickly goes
As tense eyes eye the thrower's throw
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Thatched with straw and soil and youth
Her fingers curled 'round a dying candle
Lighting her uncomely home as she rambled
"Why is my daughter so late in coming?"
"At this hour she aught to be running!"
She sat in an old oak chair pushing and rocking
Waiting for her daughter's hand to come knocking
The middle of her gaunt face stood enlightened
By the mangled candle where her fingers tightened
The tea brewed on the red fire beside her
As the hot steam began to choir and stir
The woman turned her face, exposing a scar
Rigid and deep and black as tar
Its depression remained drearily dark
Where the candle's light lost its mark
Its hard form was grotesquely violent
Speaking horror, intensely silent
The woman rustled and finally erected
Rising to walk with good footing selected
Slowly she shuffled over to the fire
While the flames sent her shadow higher and higher
She sat the candle down on the mantle above
And handled her tea with unrivaled love
She poured it gently into an old cracked cup
The steam escaping and fuming up
Then a knock barked from the crooked door
Its vibration traveled through the wood floor
She laid down the kettle and picked up the candle
Shuffling to the door as she again began to ramble
"Finally you come you ungrateful wench."
"I thought I could smell your ungainly stench."
Her old hand pried open the door
Exposing the wind and its magnificent roar
A beautiful, trembling woman stood outside
With an old looking hatchet hanging by her side
"Have you yet to find some desperate man to wed?"
The old wretched woman sharply said
And with that the woman's hand came to rise
And drive the hatchet between her mother's eyes
Blood spewed two rivers around her crinkled nose
And as she fell to the floor her cold eyes froze
The daughter left the door open to light of day
To show all the world the demon she slay
Monday, August 31, 2009
Glass Stage
Winter chills shift and thrive once more
Ice begins growth, brittle and thin
And her feet tremble on the shore
Her back thrusted by freezing winds
The grass behind stands still and pale
Crisply frozen in yesterday
Its touch and smell begin to fail
As she blindly walks on today
Across the river lake so slow
She shuffles on the clear glass stage
As her frozen aching fears grow
Tranquil faces observe her cage
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Roots
Entangled upon age old bark
Inside the sweet babe prances
A naked joy softly stark
Light breaks through uneven seams
A sharp glow seeps through the leaves
And from her sap the babe weans
As her lonely mother grieves
For when the moment arrives
The babe will break through her walls
Igniting flames in maddened eyes
That watch the mother tree fall
Roots slither into the ash
Taking hold of a sleeping warmth
While limbs above fiercely thrash
Upon famished insect swarms
The locusts and moths well know
The babe is wrong and wretched
And as armies fly and flow
Her leaves become digested
But the daughter does not fall
She only stands black and gray
On the ash that gave her all
And here the price paid shall stay
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Widow
Faces on stones lie blackened and crumbled
The eyes that atom loved sleep somber and humble
And the deep white flames flicker and fumble
On the livid corpse both burning and dead
Of an eight legged widow deep black and red
The ancient love of atom grows fondled and fed
While eyes sweetly sleep on her carnage crowned head
To Be Continued
Into a thousand shards
While the time it bides
Leaves thickened scars
Swiftly halting action
These pieces hold their own
Like stubborn waring factions
They crack the brittle bones
Until the blood grows cold
And death does divide
Blood conscriptions sold
Into an angry red tide
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Reaper
Sow the seeds and never tell
Wear the scythe and hide the plow
Grow the pure and kill the foul
Slaughter stock and feed the young
Whip the mule and hold his tongue
Work him hard till fall of dawn
Revel in his silent brawn
Quiet the wind, calm the rain
Give noise an ill sense of shame
Step lightly though greenest fields
Choosing wisely what you yield
Red Opium
Their souls find shelter from the red rain
Clay built from clay to remold earthen masks
Concealing foul faces drunkenly cast
Nights shine darker
Pale clay grows starker
And strong comes the opium
Into a love melted utopian
Love from the poppy
It's love's mold the seeds copy
And clay melts to mold
Useless, ancient, old
And so love the forms
Sanguine in red storms
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Glow
Little spots of vibrant warmth
Glow bright in lively golden swarms
Through air full with giddy children
Small hands clutch, softly gilded
Fluttering wings weave to and fro
Yielding to hands both high and low
A swift release is offered most
Whilst some suffer talk and boast
Bodies move swiftly in the night
Causing fights in desperate flight
Avoiding quick fingered cages
Amongst a laughter so contagious
These tiny souls in the dark
Yearn deeply for the bedtime hark
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Hour
The hour shall arrive
So quickly unexpected
When silly minds contrive
An idea oft neglected
Their heads will surely thrive
On thoughts to be respected
Spreading jolly lies
While curing the infected
They shall blind the wise
Concealing words suspected
Hiding in the guise
Of knowledge near perfected
Monday, March 9, 2009
The Creature
Constructed by a monstrously beautiful fiend
Who dwells in the earth forever alone
Each day turning more the black stone
He slaves as storms rage and slaves as they die
Whilst no ears hear his tortuous cry
The Black Water Rhyme
Dancing between cracks carved in primal stone
Shrill liquids sing in love's forgotten stead
As scars glisten in madness plainly shown
Endless chaos wildly waltzes within
Gray forms both weathered and smoothly ancient
Seething channels reveal sad songs of sin
Their power and lyrics all but fainted
The struggle ceased before talk told of time
Now the solemn trickled dance dictates death
And the smooth stones heed the black water rhyme
Of a great colossus who once drew breath