endured no more

titian tints of summer yield

forgetting and embracing

wind and rain,

winter would come with shackles

a home,

citadel of seclusion

sphere light bulbs and ticking clocks

here you can contemplate

the different shades of life

and it’s own complex fate,

grey heart beats,

distilled whiskey poured in

glass streaked by fingers

that once touched face,

without silken words

she would return

and the fevered mind would clear

moments of indiscretion

reshape reform

music would attract,

moth like fluttering in her heart

and the once broken tongue

would speak again

healing a process

begun

http://dversepoets.com/

incredible saboteur

bones where our fathers sleep

forgotten beneath the stairs,

theater of the virgin daughter has begun

left the abyss

rode naked beneath a harvest sky,

flowers once cast upon the river

caught by rising fishes

their illiterate world

tensed and sure,

this has to be the darkest season

of blood not drawn by knife

but fear of the morning hill,

normal day without monsters

forged on sleeping mental despair,

no amount of her is aimless,

violets had been crushed on the lawn

buzzards had become trapped in

rivers sediment,

wrapped in fabric woven with

delusion and anagrams of what

love should of brought,

bands of gold encircle retinas flourish,

she has found a new way

more than chromosomes shared with

other mammals,

she raises a visible alarm,

society dissected under assured touch

and found the moon wanting,

no more to be buried side by side

eternal would be joy and dance,

then we sleep

http://dversepoets.com/

Charles Bukowski – Last Straw

Charles Bukowski one of his last readings in 1980