Alejandro Jodorowsky – Dancing Poems (in English and Spanish)

The senses continually give what they receive / The world is modeled according to the way you think.
Kind act pleasing perfume / glass of water poured unmanned / pure liquid is like the soul / created by the thirst of another benefit.
The reality is embodied illusion / Birds sing because we believe in them / produce the melody between the two / eternity without them is not.
I speak from the darker / Site Lamp From the river / takes the magic of life is the encounter with the countless deaths.
Things are from the moment that we call our / discard them possess is / is in giving that you get.

an angel without eyes to god

she was an angel i did not expect
birth of thoughts induced
by booze and drugs,
looking at her gazing through glass
grimy fingerprinted silica,
overlooking a fire escape and alley,
those eyes almost burned
vibrant and echoing
i let her in,
in awe of beauty loins aching
hair pushed aside she smiled
obliged to kneel and bow
kissing feet so clean unspoiled
standing knocking over empty bottle
about to curse
she touched my lips,
unbuttoning the dress she wore
falling to the floor,
this was fantasy so amazing
full breasts broad hips,
flesh so tantalizing ,
without yearning felt cold pinpricks
in my neck associated with fear,
black wings extended from her back
dark feathered  satin
part of her form
backing up slowly
as she began to sing so softly
a lullaby that evaporated my life
with every word

poetry, poem

Magpie Tales

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

steps to a mocking truth

my shoes have grown
as my heart and eyes have seen
they walked with me,
since those first inaccurate stumbles
seeing surface and texture
slipped on,
tied,
buckled
leather formed about the feet,
or thrown in disgust
at a politicians head,
they walk with us
mutely seeing and interacting
as the  animal they once where
to a human misery,
without shoes connecting to earth
and nature of earthen creation,
ski hardening
to dust
stone
and blacktop,
miles witnessed
to a freedom attained
toes as extremity population
encounter first and enjoy
what was once an overall entrapment
thorns may spike
stones may pierce
batons beat
and electrodes burn,
washed and anointed
our shoes are needed
protect
shelter
enable
and keep away the awful pains,
shoes see more
than we think

poetry , poem

dversepoets.com

 

Winning Bukowski Tweet #1: wine by Chris Lawrence

Thank you so much Bukowski On Wry and all your readers , all the best

cumbria caravan , eastern view

20130728_163412.jpg

Cumbria, holiday

Chris Lawrence Phoneography

4:30am

spelltime hour of silence

light defaces the sky

and sun confronts glass,

i am a discordant instrument

out of tune,

field and track make profiles

in the light,

rabbit flashes white tail

crows beckon with raw calls,

everyone is sleeping,

alone without cellphone coverage

or far reaching internet,

my problems an essential alphabet

to be categorized and processed

without many answers,

flushed with a sense of panic

brighter light folds about me,

besides dad gone since january

people move about my head

reaching for my attention

often stumbling,

sipping coffee

i asked them to be patient

my service was slow

attention would come

from the sleep abandoned

most awake now,

allowing the light to reach my retina

but there it stopped,

inside was still a bleak landscape

of whatever,

and i had not cleaned it up yet

 

poetry , poem

no more dirty shoes

moon leaves hoofprint clouds

as with horses it races,

old stars more than pieces of rock

show somber interest,

there would be no more

shallowness to  the sun,

as on earth below

with fingers in urn

scattering ashes

feeding eternal foliage,

those hoofbeats drummed your name

quick reflection passing over water

ashamed moon hides,

the longness of souls given to solitude,

ashes scattered in arcs

summer has laid it’s green pasture

as darkness fills the air

fireflies imagined appear

wishing for a net to catch them in

and crush with celestial hammer,

empty urn falls

shattered by hoofbeats,

damp meadow reveals the place

you began,

ambiguous shadows almost bestial,

tears make streets upon your face

all that could be over was,

coming with dust, dreams and flesh

the enchanted

and persistent stars

dverselogo

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

horizons last echo

april sky so soon

drifting on a serpents tail,

leave things unsaid

as land sloop nods it’s sails

passing by

current winds darkly,

past rises and falls

heart regains soft perfume

and patient curve of dreams,

the dose of milky words is measured

and watch strong veins yield,

fertile nymph swift winged

with gentle reprimand and sweet caress

each phrase an anchor

she is the earth i sought

connect and chains alike rendered

into length across the gulf

range to stars and hand shaped sun,

beam downward facing light

it’s shift as hot  as a hammer strike,

layers heat stripped back

pool of her shine

into a naked dance

witnessed by constellation

who appraised and agreed,

becoming fugitives

beyond a shouting earth

we fled on the arch

of freedoms ray

 

orchards of rockland maine 1892

fruit of pomona

yielding to reach and touch ,

never to be split between friends and lovers

that homer once wrote of them,

slight tug separation from tree

a tree that would outlive the fingers

among the branches,

each gathered in wicker basket

green and red flesh perfumed

one of softer flesh skin slipped off

pulled open juice spilled nested in pulp

not seed but foetal form,

an emerging conterpart who would grow

in truth,

licking away textured pale pulp revealing all

form grew and writhed,

this was nothing that pliny had written of or the

romans seen yet she knew,

as a woman in her warm spelt bosom,

the coming thunder was starting with overlaid clouds

to raise it’s crescendo,

female foetus of of rockland maine

with mind akin would grow so well,

her fingers had known degas face,

eyes seen the waves of suppression ,

in this basket another voice grew

oil impressionism

captured scene milhaud tones

creation and completion

the veritable truth,

that fruit of pomona spoke so well

no more a planet of empty milk and bread

in the spirit of the gods

many would red lip sacrifice

banner to trumpet call

it was settled now

magpie tales statue stamp 185