apartment to let

vibrant radiator harmony,
getting to his ears
before the daylight
ripped open his eyes,
and alphabet soup thoughts
swilled from side to side
in the bowl that is his skull,
twnty seven permutations
of how the day
would end up being,
rolling a cigarette,
strips of paper cut from
an old shelley poetry book
as if inhaling the words
would give creedence to his own,
that languished on pages
scattered like a womans dirty
underwear across the floor,
that masterpiece so often
rewritten not compiled,
new words scraped away the old
confidence from caffeine
lifted him to another level,
sun filled evey corner
a morning bronze age
renaissance to the heart,
sat up scratching legs
it would be complete

Universal Studios Lot, Instagram by sessepien

Alfonsina Storni – Running Water

alfosina storni

the santa is coming

nsa tinsel and filament devices
elves a watching facebook and twitter
the santa is coming
who has been naughty or nice
on sled pulled by drones
war on terror so far unfinished
bringing gifts to a hurting poor
low pay, taxation and what of medicare
food bank turkey in a suspicious world
ho ho ho
debt advice and feeling jolly
check the tree for gps and listening devices
holly wreath marks the door
apocalpyse around the corner
automatic rifle and several handguns
a thousand tins of beans
wal mart generation
in a generation x world
fattened wealthy bulls work the market
bonuses pour from the sky
the santa is coming
ho ho ho
with foreclosure signs
and spooks past and present
the santa is coming
you must feel joyful and triumphant
hand on heart god bless everyone
one and all
primaries and elections
next on elves agenda
so use your time
and think
what do you want
ho ho ho

international christmas

 

feliz navidad

merry christmas

Ferenc Juhasz – Birth Of A Foal

As May was opening the rosebuds,

elder and lilac beginning to bloom,

it was time for the mare to foal.

She’d rest herself, or hobble lazily

after the boy who sang as he led her

to pasture, wading through the meadowflowers.

They wandered back at dusk, bone-tired,

the moon perched on a blue shoulder of sky.

Then the mare lay down,

sweating and trembling, on her straw in the stable.

The drowsy, heavy-bellied cows

surrounded her, waiting, watching, snuffing.

Later, when even the hay slept

and the shaft of the Plough pointed South,

the foal was born. Hours the mare

spent licking the foal with its glue-blind eyes.

And the foal slept at her side,

a heap of feathers ripped from a bed.

Straw never spread as soft as this.

Milk or snow never slept like a foal.

Dawn bounced up in a bright red hat,

waved at the world and skipped away.

Up staggered the foal,

its hooves were jelly – knots of foam.

Then day sniffed with its blue nose

through the open stable window, and found them –

the foal nuzzling its mother,

velvet fumbling for her milk.

Then all the trees were talking at once,

chickens scrabbled in the yard,

like golden flowers

envy withered the last stars.

tangier peanut butter

cloud closed eyelids

break down

frustration bites,

from the hearth of the desert

to letters written on a distant bed,

bleached warm animals move

still connected to womb,

she smelled the colors,

and aeroplane’s shipwrecked

in the sky

poured contents on golden wings,

there was a pirate sea

somewhere beyond her once

found intimacy now left,

forgotten sand buried

yellow dune sea,

hominid apes search

closed eyelids sealed

not with tears,

just a low iridescence of pain

on the weight of the wind,

she remained infirm

on the mattress

her spine left damaged footprints

yet something lifted

drunk on air

feast on breast before

dissolved with fire

palm fronds part,

as she sought his lips again

SONY DSC

 

http://lafotografiaefectistaabstracta.blogspot.co.uk/

wonderful abstractions that stimulate the mind

Charles Bukowski – Last Straw

Charles Bukowski one of his last readings in 1980

splendor and the urban glow

in it’s journey the air skins itself

from the day,

breathe free and roam

away from dark fragrances

that have the stench of destruction,

many colored flowers fear the sunshine

and bee’s in waxen cells wait,

assassin’s claim the holy star

as low shepherds no more as minstrels

play,

ample breasted ornament of the night

gives blessing suppliante aid,

zephyr brings the bleaching draft,

youths desire lanky and untold

held in his journals all that is confident

and private,

cold fires again made him bold,

but from the ground comes an ultimatum

don’t let sorrow bear down,

juicy flood and promised kiss,

half willing freeway traffic unfurls time

as it becomes trapped by clustered vine,

nourished from her bed

lust a luxurious blaze under saffron veils

adds more fever to a new day,

petals had spread from the laden stem,

but those minutes had left ravished eyes

and new reality subsided under overshadowing

wing,

with it’s horrid glare

the air has revealed all

3wordwednesday

bourbon flavored font’s

two glasses unwashed

sat upended fragile in their shine,

opened bourbon

a long mouthful held then swallowed

his bourbon her breakfast,

moving from one room to another

morning cool on skin

she wore only panties,

typewriter on oak

bold keys hold promise

again it was his

the cat shared moved onto lap

as sitting down,

chatter of keys as poetry flowed,

to him she was a disposable muse,

she did not care

being on all fours

fucked from behind

staring at cotton bed linen

her mind could think

without his face ,

all he needed was the mirror to pose,

weave of cotton held a story

as she thought of next poem

he too had release,

it was a kind of love,

they used each other in

different ways

ink stained finger pedigree

kiss and whisper in her ear

hair dyed nocturnal sheen,

this clown without sanity

also had no morality,

for him love was the crazy light

of all dead angels,

his heart navigated slums of heaven,

babylon a drink to satisfy

and of those there where many,

at the door watched as she

burned on the brazier of sweetness,

leaving behind

he would go now and

make seven nymphs homeless,

in his mind words dwell,

a mirrors reflection

shows glance of vain apathy

downstairs and out

he went walking brisk

on soft sprung sidewalk,

there will come a last day

where pages no longer speak,

she was far behind

no turning back,

sorrow clung to his own breasts form

blood of his lust drained

pausing to turn into the bar

instead of heading home

will wait on tonight

dverselogo

my lungs and the ashes they scatter

boy scout knife

cuts knot of dignity

buried in thin soil

warming under a march sun

a first moth touched skin,

shiver to the marrow,

her anatomy before me to explore,

transparent eyes

cast shadows on high cheekbones,

i am not that sad memory

of your brothers eye

but a rare specimen,

no longer chain smoking

or drinking dark bourbon,

hair dyed blonde under

my fingers made me think of

sails on a 1655 vessel

cast onto an ocean

with crew of silent men,

your face i could borrow

and place as a mask

on that clock in the hall

the one that never expels

the right time only a false line

of narrative,

either my retina is damaged

or i am truly seeing you now,

guess how long you  have been lying here,

mind let thought liquify

into a silenced reservoir ,

i made an oath before holding those hands

fingers more suited to beer bottle necks

than a piano’s gentle ivories,

grubs now crawl about us

fat juicy bodies leathery to touch,

a handful wriggling

over us so harrowing,

will we ever return to the bar

where we met or will it be just me,

your thigh humility’s myth

a touch would alert the sky

and rain would fall,

standing aside i look down,

i had possessed with my freak show nature

letting go would be hard,

i could not go further or police would question me,

whispers and a tiny breath

you are on your feet

in my embrace

lips still scarlet not turned blue,

back seat vinyl

tattered blouse and jeans,

a bad trip i explained

drugs have that effect

beguiled and confused

i lifted you back into a relevant world

of love and truth,

the electricity of this terrible road

had ended

into a city of one hundred years

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