Corona Flare

fables of pandemic unfold

more monsters than gods

take to visual stage

casting blame stones

impaled on their own arrogance

desperate to be seen

as the one

not concerned with people

fleshy pulp of the continent

oozing red into their eyes and hearts

more pledges of gold

in coffers in pockets

skin slaves toil

frontline fodder

without health armistice

broken promises

soiled memories

of what was and still

could of been

when it’s over

people will rise

staves and torches

battering the ivory towers

hoping this time

it will change

Blast

cumulonimbus squall

of a headache

tore me out of delirium

to blister pack paracetamol

choked almost

that raw pharmaceutical taste

mug of tea

apple spiced

wishing the phone

would cease

exhausted now

as silence fell

I took to being asleep

with tainted tongue

and abstract thoughts

Fields Ploughed

I look at my penis

skin collar

lychee tip

then piss

a long straw stream

you are not a memory

you are a gift

finger folds

and soften furze

we know we belong

but until when

the scythe decides

Chris Lawrence

Whistle Me Away

when apes discover genocide

I wonder how long I will linger

on the verdant green and blue

insulated by my own sickness

that brackish bile

of human contempt

apes will sing not our mythology

but one of burnt forests

and dried out lakes

human carcasses so vile

carrion crows refuse

to dine without the thought

of consequence

and I will lie down

human leaf litter

becoming fertiliser of the new

season a generation

or era where the truth of nature

will win

Chris Lawrence

Mystery Apex

Concussed by mornings

sharpened light

grasping cotton silence

each breath was tentative

alone

without the other

that shadow fragment

of a once upon a night

recalling synaptic responses

she knew

he had departed

but to who

or where

tears where of no consequence

why shed them

fuck memories

and fuck those

who fucked them

Mercury Drops

paper cuts once

more painful

than the striating

marks on the heart

each ventricle incised

life a blood force

poured as if from

an unblessed chalice

closing eyes

cannot make you hide

slow each breath

coax intuition

to help

it is going

yield and go

fear of life

the greater threat

even with her

whisper kisses

Lean Against The Letting Go

Lean against the letting go by Christopher Lawrence

like pressed garlic
creamy crushed
husk blown away,
i held her
forgetting the argument,
forgiveness and
playing with that
blonde hair
thinking of tomorrow

A poem that got put published in Rusty Truck 25 March 2012 in memory of Richard Brautigans birthday 30th January 1935

Phimosis Postibi

conduit shrugs

from sleepy wither

morning scrapes

itself off the night

with bruised studded clouds

I will shower

soaps lather run

looming down

at the hoodless one

shaped contour of

male tissue erectile

veined with coming age

desensitized to cotton touch

hidden behind

clasp of gideon sundbuck

soft towel rub

once retreated

so nobody will know

it’s a shame

that this dome

quite architectural

with narrow eye

can shine and shimmer

in fluid moments

of interaction

but for now

the day pale clad

has begun

me as of today

Phimosis Interlude

and there I am

inside you

erectile tissue

incapable

rendered useless

previous tears

foreclosed

foreskin

tightened it’s grip

narrowing

to a pinhole

so hard to fuck

so hard to piss

meatus

glans

frenulum

biology of a urologist

with pinch

and slice

foreskin foreshore

to the tide

of emotion

as scraped emerged

purple swollen

sullen alter ego

meatus

glans

frenulum

now seen again

tactile flesh

to satisfy

Eggs….

I broke an egg

soft boiled

watched the yolk

spread

in the whorehouse

of my soul

i thought

of my yolk

spread

over your breast

as I kneel

and urge

over

your sleeping

shape

my mess

your anger

limp disaster hung

itself

on my brittle facade

you left

exit by the door

i now look at

knowing

this egg will

not taste any better