there is a dirt road thunder
away from city limits
dust and grits
and over burnt coffee
crows feet eyes
and indistinct touch
nothing cellphone can resolve
jukebox clicks to vinyl
see her in the kitchen
with a smile
I will eat her pie
Juke Date 74
Tag Archives: @dVersePoets
natural ass bird
accelerate harder
trees tremor passed,
what is against the heart
and rain streaked glass,
prophecy and a government system
insulted by the freaks of lottery
money was not to be
the blanket of insidious content,
radio breaks it down
speed accompanies the heart,
the bitch most malicious
than spilled gasoline
with a well lie lubricated tongue
speaks of equality
pace of society,
why feel betrayed
as if she where sat alongside you
taunting as if fertile
yet as barren as a thousand year
old desert,
tires bite into blacktop
staining and smearing
with billows of smoke,
there can be only one ultimatum,
terror inflates the throat
choking on that swelling promise
of nothing,
beyond sharp curve of road
open air
and sweet mist valley
and the feeling of
wanting to fly
open link night #145
appropriate senses
one day the paint becomes too heavy for the wall
and as it falls
i snarl at the wooden frame window,
going beyond
the being drunk for days on end,
curled flakes green paint
like that of a psychiatric unit
even smelled of it,
my body grey
not creased by laughter,
ceiling fan
juddering illusion blades
imagined tugging away flesh
from my bioluminescent bones,
bareback
once ridden by the sun
penetrated by raw illumination,
walls began to shift
i am to be released
as a lost savage
in a wet city
out of the ring
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
lawnchair before sunrise
ants led the way to the old boathouse
planks softened and warped
shingle roof dipped,
door scraped rough to touch
inside musty scent of the past decaying,
memories inserted of another life,
stacked next to tins forgotten and paint,
four lawnchairs
metal mottled chrome flaked
still cold to the touch,
infused with a past when
there where echoes of a young
family that once been
part of me,
lifting one out
stiff opening action,
outside in the air
it could of turned to dust,
instead it bore my weight
now i had passed an elegant age
lighter not so heavy,
eyes dimmed slowly in slumber,
this chair was symbolic in it’s structure
bending straps
rubber perished
one snapped,
i did not want to move
with wild turkey
and some cigars,
would i see the sunrise
that would have to wait till morning
image from recyclart.org
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
consistency of skin
the rain was inexhaustible,
drawing his jacket
closer about his chest,
pacific rain and bothered grey
clouds added to urgency,
trees in their reach
did not create a canopy
dense enough,
unable to hear the helicopter,
footprints dissolving into mud,
but his scent would illuminate
nostrils of eager tracker with
muted eyes,
lowering himself
more towards the bushes,
water ran over his face,
he still felt heading north
was an objective,
finding the cabin
would of been easy
had summer still been here,
pausing for the slightest breath,
looked up at limbs
grasping from the trunk,
and wondered would it be worth it,
there would be no more marvelous
sensations,
yesterdays vividness had given way
his futile hope screamed,
kneeling said a last prayer
and waited
fierce candles
winters thorns bury deep
flesh pierced by that uneased dark
until candles dripping pale
tore aside the emptiness
illuminating dust
and a heart enclosed deep beneath a breast
her warmth reflected in those eyes,
he would embrace,
beyond all walls a snowy temper raged
sweeping alongside doors
muffling all that was brutal,
in hold and secure
dawn was a long way off
a thousand years would pass
before a few magic smitten would know
stars would die
and planets turn
winding in secrets so human,
lips tremble withholding so many words
that he would say
and she would reply
as a chosen wonder,
that urge carnal became a vapor
glimmer of hope,
and futures peace at stake,
memory fickle put upon pages
of a shameless scrawl
edited by many kings
dissolved into legend and myth
springs reaction would reveal much,
embrace over
fragile reflections and shadows
for the movement so vividly intact
would leave so many
damaged echoes
that conflict is inevitable
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
aerial burden of the ox
with the old decades shown in the rain
burdening me with a dampness
remorse in it’s wanting has,
flesh colored dreams
drawn tight into deep constriction
the next day would be more relevant,
sipping a coffee cold at the edges
no plate on the mat
hunger not the issue here,
wet clothes painful to the bone
unnoticed by a vapor soul,
scented thoughts
as my mind peeled
drawn into segments pithy and secretive,
pieces i could look at
and not venture a taste
any sweetness gone
acrid juice spilling over lingering images
this fight so ancient
could break me down at the yoke
leaving a harvested husk
and no resonance,
only to be lifted skywards
coffee grew cold
mat still empty
http://dversepoets.com/ #openlinknight
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