Tuesday 28 October 2014

Vincent Left The Necromanteion And His Beard Followed

SpyGlass Hours Cascadeing InTo Skeleton Racks,
Umbilical Construct Beyond The Twist Kaleidoscopeic,
Under-Water While I Wait This Out,
Wade To The Other Side When The Shadow Passes OverHead,
Wave To The Smothering Tide Then All Else Fails,
Sails Bellowing And Pulling The Trumpeted Sky InTo Focus,
Frothy Fingers Hooking InTo The Stripping Burn,
To Clutch At And Cling OnTo This Rocky Jagged Reef...
...
Madness Be A Dream In The Minds Of The Damned,
Best To Lock Up Your Baited-Breast 'Fore I See You Breathe Relief,
As You Reveal Belief Before Dread And InDifference,
These Shallow Wines For The Bobbing Headed To Acheron,
While This Table Must Be A Mirror's Figment Of Speech,
For The Trickster Who Be A Third Its Width In The Slight,
To Join Me In Illusion As I Seek None,
To Approach As Ahab Would To Recruit A Ghost...
...
What Privilege To Such Spirit In The Fletching Of Arrows,
To Flesh Out The Details Of A Fish Gasping For A Saint,
While I Count Out The Ways To Rhodes,
And Row ASide For Colossus-Timed Civility,
Not That I May Play As Mutton To The Blind Stride,
As I Was Never A Victim To Such The Pact Of Patience,
So No Myths Would Carry My Names' Ache...
...
...
Goodness!
You Do Realize How Much I Despise A Despot?






                                                                                              







Saturday 25 October 2014

Coffee Cups And Candles A'Long The Way A'Round

The Mortal Coil,
Digesting Reciprocity With Every Twist Of The Tail,
The Never Ending Spiraling Masquerade... Waltzing Royal... Black And White,
Batting The Eye's Lashes With Its Cow-Like Gestalt,
While From Behind The Rose-Tinted Lens... Bishops And Pawns Beat Their Chests Raw,
Hearts In Aquariums While Thoughts Sink Like Concrete Messengers,
The Kindness Of Ignorance Is What Turned Out Humps On Wednesday,
Sympathy Fucks And Finger Sandwiches... Recession Driven And Crust-Less,
All Can See That The World Is Made Of Two Levels... But Bricks Are Heavy,
And Secrets Are Guarded Before Doors Slam Open... While Knobs Can Turn...
...
Candy-Guns In The Hands Of Skirted Protectors,
Coyote-Ugly Pulling The Trigger... Under The Thumb Of His River God,
Sheltered With The Suspicious Element Of Surprise And A Bag Of Its Tricks,
A Barrel Of Monkeys In Every Shake Of Its Paw,
As If Organized Through The Momentum Of Collision To The Camera's Pinch,
To Silt A Dog-Day For A Whale-Watcher,
Green Fields Where The Poppies Grow,
With Its Ceremonyal Pissing On The Side Of A Monument...
...
...
All For The UnKnown... 
...
To Be Known... Named... Only In Times Of Cost... And Candles.























Friday 17 October 2014

Aryabhata's Predicament

The Oaf Is On A See-Saw,
Flipping His Wallet Up InTo The Air,
Swinging It On A Chain,
Catching Stares As He Jerks Them Towards His Gapeing Face,
His Eyes Pointy And Dumb,
He Sits Tight And Fat... Rideing Each Bump Like It Was His First,
While He Borrows A Friend To Dive The Totter Up And To Shake The Teeter Down...
...
Droplets Of Noon Sweat Arc Into The Marshmellow Sky,
It Is Business Class All The Way,
To Hell With Milk Money Like Molasses And Jackie Onassis,
There Is A Genuine Cause For Concern Among The Marble-Jetters
As The Rusty Stress Of Congress Begins To Squeal,
An Orbital Leverage Was Once What Held The Playground Up,
But As Greasy As The Bolt Could Be... EveryThing Falls...
...
To Bullets And Ballads,
Stomping Chubby Feet Minute After Minute,
Chomping-Simple Machine Wired For The Suspension Of Polarity,
Jaw-Slacking Pulley System To Link The Mind To Its Beauty-Sleep,
With One Thumb In A Thimble And One Pot To Watch Boil Over...
...
Keeping An Ear On The Music... The Borrowed Friend Now Disengages From The Tired Game,
Bored Of Dieing... Now To The Swings He Saunters Sullenly... 
...
The Alpha Male Saddles Up,
To Put The Program To The Test And Check Breaking Points,
His Mother's God Put Fuzz On His Cheeks... Youth Fizzing Right Below His Nose,
It Is Done So He Remembers His Turn On The Ladder,
And He Grips The Bar And Heaves Up...
...
...
The Oaf  Smiles And Sits Drooling... For A Split Second... Before He Releases Tension,
Giving His Best Attempt To Rub Out The Metal's Curve,
Though It May Take Several Attempts For The New Guy To Come Down,
And He Will Eventually Admit Defeat... From Some Niche Near Sun-Dogs And Space-Trash,
But Not Before A Shadowy Recession Hits The Land,
And EveryBody Notices How Heavy Buddha Got On The Ride Home.







Sunday 5 October 2014

Mom, Was Jesus A Skinner?

It Listens,
Long Waxed-Legged Like In Dali,
Carnivorous On Its HindSight While Footing Fifty,
No Dead Skin Upon Its Elbows,
Floating Its Heels ALong The Linoleum Slide,
No Pores WithIn Its Face,
It Does Not Breathe To Subsist...
...
It Can Bend Its Knees Back,
When Under The Bridge,
To Tease Curfew InTo Its Open Skirt,
Playing In Limbo Rouged As Any Bimbo Bell-Ringer Could,
Kneeling For The Knell To Deliver...
...
To Pucker Up A Golden Arch... Or Suck Around The Clap...
...
...
Opaque And Split-Second Quick,
Sticking Its Mouth Through The Threshold,
Its Body Invisible To All But Its Fraternity,
With A Flower On Its Cap... Or Several Inches Beneath The Rafters,
Hidden By The Whites Of Its Lies...
...
It Pokes And Molests Those Sleeping,
As Diplomacy Watches From A Bubble...
...
...
It Hatches New Goofs For Its Nursery Terns,
Boxing The Ears For X's And O's,
Then It Disappears From Breakfast For The Chance Of Trickle-Down,
For A Drip-Feed From Sourced Code To Hack And Conquer...
...
Then... Ascot-Cotton'd Or Scarf-Silken'd Or Neck Bared,
It Returns To SweetTalk Those By The SideWalk...
...
...
And, With No Bicycles Constructed Tall Enough For Its Shadow,
The Skinner Leans Chainless Against The Back-Drop,
Easeing InTo The Bricks For Its Mother Of Periphery,
As It Allows For Distraction To Wipe Its Collar Clean.