periodizing memory

tribal myths
of urban erosion,
human decay and devalue
enlightenment forbidden
left to the poet of society

paint flakes
as fingernail connects
a worried sore of what
is left behind

concrete and brick convey stories
only as far as we allow them,
corridor routes to many rooms
as with memories

how can this be a composition
construct of words and thoughts
when it rambles
on moth wings
escape can be a broken window

table and chairs
foam guts spewed
he had broken vows faith trust
here eager in his own involvement
thought theory and contradicts

bruised face spittle dampened
punished and beaten
because of an instinct survival brings
hungering lust
to nest burrow forget

she was resolute
evaded and survived
he had been
twisted by triggers of pain
another room
dabbing spittle off his chin
lifting spoon to weak lips

as with muscular distress
he watched her consume passion
with one who cared
his brutality had brought him
to this

left to collapsing rooms
becoming fabric of the dust
a horror myth
of haunting and fear
for others not her

moth had found a window
grease streaked broken
jagged edges did not connect
with fragile wings
bruises heal
fading as time can

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

wolf teat extravaganza

all around
inertia falls apart,
leap to the call of the luperci,
the she wolf nurtured
needs bloods strong flow,
goat and dog sacrifice
sword dipped in blood

(boxes of cocoa confection)
compliant to the wine
goat purification,
fauna from the woodland
scythed into sheaves

(vases and pillows)
arts of abstraction
together in this time
of declaration and proclamation

(all for the twins)
born from vestal and mars
days of hunger
and ripe fertlity
gelase wished to end

(sacred cakes)
loins of vestal virgins
februa whipped
lustratio complete,

cardboard cast into trash
wilted and thornless
red petals scattered forlorn,
human pastoral tribe
exalted to the yearning
department store sales are up
and the day is done

Piedad Bonnett – Circle and Ash

Your mouth comes to me, only your mouth.
comes flying
dragonfly blood flare
that lights my night this ash.
entire sea salt dwelling in her,
the whole sound of the sea,
all foam.
Boca drawn for kisses ,
where tantalizing your tongue sleep.
entire world wine is in your mouth,
all the sin
and all innocence.
Boca shut up and when he says, hidden.
Capable of your mouth the whole truth,
the whole truth and lies.
Laugh your mouth and wake up the day.
(Lightning snow there in your laughter.)
As a herd of ponies run over me
kissing your delicious mouth,
your mouth, butterfly wrong,
your mouth others that is blurred
in my circle night and ash.

iron hearted sloth

convulsions in the temple
vomiting the shadow of my soul,
i had nothing more to give the moon,
after breaking holy vows
in the woodland with the sky
watched by a thousand ancients
needing voyeurism in their bones,
as a pathway to love,
bleak sonnets pass my lips
knelt in this loneliness,
in my ear
her voice crawled dusky
cloth to my senses,
as i wished to suspend myself
from a high bough
and linger in highest isolation,
that perfume creeps out of
your robe wrapped tight
my stillness dispels
endurance is not a beauty
lowering myself to your lips
sour kisses known to be daring,
i became a louse burrowing,
my sloth tendencies gone,
robe discarded
burnt confection of passion
hazed and forlorn
no more regurgitation
my eyes flared in their sockets
loins raw and slimed,
forgetting would be easier
as i click on the television

 

http://www.dVersePoets.com

phantoms from a shotglass

crushed bullet amalgam

would never ease the nerve

raw taunted,

mouth spoke sore words

unrefined as love in three acts,

barefoot bluejacket

you were not the trash

he put you out to be,

sawdust blonde balance

to a natural face,

you liked the Dodge

and sat beside

in that vacant vinyl caress

of a hot summers day,

gravel churned

tires burned dark streaks

towards the center of town,

how could she cheat,

love was like tentacles

suctioned about your every part,

nothing more would be said,

slowing close to a rusted wire fence,

a gathering

barbecue sausage and steaks,

pain eased that moment

no notices given

what you brought her here for,

it was the brick

that found it’s way into the hand

a scream

she grasped his arm

that lashed the brick

across a cheekbone splitting,

falling ,

people running from the house,

let it go she cried

bullet powdered jaw ached

fleet embrace

behind dust and exhaust

a man lay

pouring blood,

did he deserve ,

he was unsure

but when you love

in darker ways

it has to happen

 

 

 

the zoo inside

loves dozen roses of nonsense

absorb the tears

bowing scarlet faces

like captives not yet freed,

unable to see the stony sky

witness to this fall

grey wet clouds furrow

sun struggles to shine,

she knelt thinking of his heart

as a homeless man

moving into oceans waves

shouting at the albatross

with salt tainted voice,

he was baptized

and she became afraid

of the creatures inside him

lurking with their brutal flesh

beyond fables tale,

waves over him

spray and foam he fell

swept out

her tears continued to fall

standing

walked into the garden

with a ghost of no return

his path named as a storm

that rent open her gates

she could not hold anymore

restless memories

and vertical shining eyes

it would be a fresh start

Nick White Benedict Cumberbatch – Inseperable (2007)

soup in cans

history cannot be muted by a kiss

butterflies will not drown in your drink

dark streets do not betray your shadow

he strokes her fragrance

with a soft inhale,

a kitchen room

cabinets stove fridge and sink

table center

soup can next to opener,

between them,

the earth has not fallen

yet still they stare

not at each other

but at the can

silver topped paper wrapped,

blood smears oceans

and desert sand,

wine flavored tongues begin to talk,

as they decide

stripped of it’s cloth

the table was bare and knotted,

around her shoulders

cloth placed

as they found out about

soup and why it was in

can

http://dversepoets.com/

19 Years

my thoughts assembled

the largest of them all

was one of knowing

billowing fulfilled,

she was more than a voice

heard on the soundscape

of my ears

this thought entitled me

to love to adore,

between sun and moon

a radiance of woman,

my sky lead a path

to a new future,

behind doors within

my skull

songs rung out

telling me of what i was aware

we wanted the journey to begin

more than love, more than lust

bonded and entwined,

time is better

with a companion

and mine travels well

Karen and Me

Today our anniversary and still in love more than ever