according to the extent of damage

cotton incarceration
warm passive silence
flaccid dysfunction
waiting for something
that will never happen,
the only viability
a son and daughter,
born before the
scent of burning gasoline

freeway interchange
radio an unordered state
of a music republic

traffuic chaos
with thrashing horns

when metal connects
notation raw
screacming crunch
thrown off latitude
subtle tones become blank
face connects with side window
glass can write and deface
what was naturally placed
as can a steering column

concrete scrape added
to symphony
eighteen wheels raised and flipped

soft cushion supports buttocks
with sores that ache
chair propelled by hands gnarled
by whatever connected with them
my hands
unseen yet rolled me forward
as i sketched in mind
floorplan outlay

yet the anger of memories lost
her face one of them,
she would push
and not complain,
butter toast
roast coffee granules
hear her yet so much is gone

that morning
making love
i think or was that last year
subtle flow interrupted
resistance is dead
we talk
lie in comfort
love that abstract definition
has shown it’s truth
worth more than what
i cannot see

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

there are no ruins

In memory of my Dad , Ivan Hare father and friend always filled with a diverse wisdom and a knowing way , transformed lives with kindness and openess, a great man. I have great memories my mum ,sisters and i survive yet in that peculiar way he does as well at our side as he always will be.

These are my feelings i am sure shared with my family

night has a cheap aluminum taste
that wakes me from the shallows
passing the border post,
into shrugged wakefulness,
i am not afraid of dentists drill
yet i am of this day
holding on by tips of my fingers
dropping into a place still dark,
i will find my way
walking not flying,
tied by blood to a long memory,
rain upon the iron tracks
a platform for the coming back
but i know of no return journeys
when passage is paid,
despite this a silent hand can be held
and forehead kissed,
locomotive rush across interior landscapes
carriage rattle and sway
memories may mumble
but they are heard and felt,
native tongue
and lyrical words
he may be gone
but not silenced
remember tea and hot buttered toast
smell, feel, dream
aluminum leaves my mouth
with each cup of coffee,
he is with me now
and i do not have to worry

Love you Dad miss you this year on , thinking of my Mum and sisters Sandra and Lana

Off The Perfumed Saddle

piano keys washed in honey [ woman bathing in time ]
sexualist extreme ,
broken straw bed
assembled ingredients of a virgins reflection

desire/slutton/erogenous/ unforgiving

bitter fingers play [woman dried on flowers flesh]
hungering absolute yet no permanence
jazz expelled drum beat symphony

tatoo/dollars /benign/fragile

[woman forgotten in memories light]
supple sinewy ghosts on sunset go

 

a raw experiment for @dVersePoets 55 prompt

 

Miguel de Unamuno – My Vulture / Mi Buitre

This ravenous vulture grim scowl
that devours me the fiery bowels
and my only constant companion
till my pain with his hooked beak.
The day we touch the last sip
I rush my black blood, I want
it leave me with him alone and landmark
a moment, no one as hindrance.
Well I want to win, doing my agony
as he my last stripping swallows
surprise in his eyes somber
look to see the fate that threatens
without this dam as satisfying
the terrible hunger that never goes out .

and in Spanish

Este buitre voraz de ceño torvo
que me devora las entrañas fiero
y es mi único constante compañero
labra mis penas con su pico corvo.
El día en que le toque el postrer sorbo
apurar de mi negra sangre, quiero
que me dejéis con él solo y señero
un momento, sin nadie como estorbo.
Pues quiero, triunfo haciendo mi agonía
mientras él mi último despojo traga,
sorprender en sus ojos la sombría
mirada al ver la suerte que le amaga
sin esta presa en que satisfacía
el hambre atroz que nunca se le apaga.

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

131

sunday whirl

 

 

 

72 Panels

behind her shoji screen

where protected, felt assured to be naked

no unbidden glances

would spill from a mans eye

gathered in her own mind

and clothed touched the soft panels

each to represent a year of life,

the ones lived and ones to come

patches of existence on a written timeframe,

smiling she moved to the window

hillside and meadow

no sharp intrusions to the eye

looking back she wondered of the last panel

what  ghosts lurked behind

for it was hidden

until the time was right,

a swarm of bees sounded outside

nectar and honey

as she expected love to be

but mother said not,

spoke of not having to worship a man,

his edges not so rounded

where often cruel as father was

to others but not her

not a favorite they just understood,

it did not matter of the last panel

for she knew how long she had

as sliding the door behind

walked out onto a busy street

wordle128

 

sunday whirl

 

sublime oranges

he measured the room

by volume of the dark

with light subtracted,

moving as ulysses did in hades

he would find breakfast on the sand,

ocean not so far away

as high tides where relevant,

rituals began

ideas stencilled on embryonic dna

created this path and outlook,

sometimes he felt it was only he

he revolving and the earth had stopped,

it was not a crisis of meaning

only an imbalance on his poetics,

even in the dark

he could place a pen nib and write

about placing kisses on her

naked arcitecture,

a finding in deep silence

what she had really meant

under that cloak of shuddering mysticism

pen scratched paper

it would be ten pages,

before images faltered and pen halted,

ignoring wine that had already spilled on

table top,

peeled an orange

segmented aspects from which to

derive a special calm,

her bewitching had been an interference

but now choking fumes cleared

and he was at last

truly free

poem, poet , jazz

@dVersePoets

interior of the narrative

with powdered paint and eye

and quenchless burning soul

deeper dark star fury

takes up the hurrying wind,

purity lost beneath the moon

misty champagne breath

keeps the flow

and warm ones eyes,

flash and hold,

adore me now or die

happy rays

reach sinew and bone,

beguiled so beguiled

by brighter grasp of desire,

fire and malice

forge the steel that cuts

the bonds of spanked behind

erotocise the far out stars

roses wanted only for the kiss,

hey harmony sing and

conceal wine impassioned veins,

sing one more time

the glory and the gem

of our dark hearts,

brutal tug of hair

claimed on oceans shore,

love an orphan of friendship

ceaseless and perverse,

liberty burnt over ashes

in her thrall i am

beat beat beat,

the frenzied imps of fire

in desperate crouch

of soul

i remain

poem, poet , jazz

@dVersePoets

 

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