those hands punched me
knocked the wind out of me,
reflecting what is ugly
my flat face,
i wondered if anybody
had beaten them,
corroding life
with the spit of minutes
splashing on my face
no shadows
as i grunted
accepting what passes,
age no longer a pleasure
but a cruel joke
i wore the bruises
clotted flesh no longer taut,
another whiskey
salute that clock,
wood rimmed containing
the mechanism
that makes time work,
what a load of crap,
i close my eyes
and my own minutes passed
i would not be reliant on it
anymore
Tag Archives: club
Palace of the Neon Stars
white leather jeans shirt forgotten
crushed joint spark
close to oak tree/
picked up Harley Sprint kicked alive
the virtue of engine noise
as grass gave way to blacktop,
wind swallowed hair flowed out,
riding unicorns to the resting place
of yesterday
time bends/
literate words come into mind
long weaver woven sentences
to use
as he sought her out
princess of diamonds and pearls
her rooms would be richly furnished
ditch the bike/
clatter of steel
engine splutters into silence,
a burden tugged
hooked on his heart,
emotions break was a wild sea
worrying the conscious
diminishing light/
as sun dropped over rooftops
he still searched out the place
The Palace
run down building anointed by graffiti
fractured bricks
rolled shutter windows
snap fingers/
make a wish
saxophone played long drawn notes,
that filtered like nicotine
into his veins
thickening, hardening
flesh pricked cold
darkness calls/
not drunk stumbled over steps,
trash septic festering
litter of abused society,
excrement and needles
vibration of notes
lingered in guts and loins
stage lit/
by pigeon broken holes
and the princess was there
moving sensual in a half light
full link to reality
saxophone to lips
blonde soul hair,
righting a stool
looked over
swaying
an enhancement to his retina
delft blue panties
bare breasts full as a coming moon
nature to his root
he found the princess of his Palace
the reason of future
blueprint of his plans
Stand Up and Wanting
laughter detached from beauty
many faces appreciated,
her own humor made her belong
in this bar,
this night,
eighty five people with warm beer
saw her on the stage
not silent they talked,
she became part of their life,
jokes about mundanity,
the effectiveness of marriage,
up there she was not sorry,
a guitarist joined her sometimes,
whiskey added fire to the jokes
with political edge,
never a pawn
she had an opinion,
yet behind the facade of comic pride
she screamed,
her bust under black sequin bodice
grasped and strangled her heart,
unless she did something wrong
caught up their in the light
amp resounding her voice,
she would continue to the end
and after last light
clicked off,
would find her own sorrow and silence
Saxophone of The Blissful
smoky auburn hair,
eyes shallow closed,
music permeated
the atmosphere,
drawn by the
colluding sound
of a saxophone,
dew down cleavage,
exalted breathing
a rapture,
unraveled my conscious
guiding me to
solace
velvetmedia 