gradual decline

defined and documented
blue binding no longer black
posey vest and wrist restraints,
in this bed unable to move
she was selfless in her care
and he so sure of fear,
shifting his backside slightly
legs splinted with sticks,
they had not spoken since
was it love
his mind versed it against
that boiling sensation in his gut
acidic rot sure it would calm,
she believed in the
discernment of spirits
and that sweet ignatian way,
will , desire whatever,
time had no identity any more,
clocks calendar all abandoned burned
ashes to choke his chest
and close his eyes,
she would face the flames one day
of his wrath or something more,
for now his lot
was on this mattress ,
wounded with pride and body
he could not polarize his thoughts
to agree with hers,
all joy had left him
swept away in blood pain and tears,
waiting for the next moment of torture

 

 

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

http://dversepoets.com/

as ever letters

a carpet salesman late

after being lost on the interstate,

was not the best person

to be looking over my still body

as if he could flay the skin

from my meat and wear it

for a ritual of life,

the only corn was creamed

in a can somewhere in a cupboard

high up,

funny as i lay there

i would think of this

instead of some higher philosophical

thought,

book of swatches at my side

fumbling over cell phone

dialing nine one one,

why was i so aware

then again why i was so dead

and when did the moon appear,

six thirty the meeting was to be

damn carpet salesman,

i had died waiting

how stupid,

come on i would wake up

and realize i had dozed in the chair

the one my cat rebel would steal,

now i thought of the letters

in the draw,

but these thoughts

where slipping my body was vacant

was the brain going now

switching off to a dim point

as tv sets used to,

shit i hated being this aware

and i love the carpet salesman

for trying,

but my ex wife would know

those letters

of feelings i had

and would mourn me more than i deserve

the tunnel exists as does the echoes

this is it i am on the express train

so hot it was getting hotter

is hell getting ready to greet me,

closing internal lids of thought

pain wracked limbs,

cracking sound

last human thought as i left my egg

as a four legged ancient

with long snout and tail

slipping into the swamp

a new persona

a life begun anew

 

 

 

 

washed over

awakened by sailors milky tears

from depths beyond the sun

she rose red ribbon bound

born of shell and bone,

sand shifted

muted fish schools scattered

his embrace she sought,

scarecrow masted vessel

dashed upon sharp geology,

to safety they leaped,

cruel sky streaked by storm

and acoustic rumble,

body battered in dinghy lay

hand outstretched

fingertips testing jagged surface,

light shone and radiated

in her eyes as close rose

long limbed form kelp caressed

finding him now face down

closer towards him,

lifting his frame from sea to shore

air sharp on lungs

heart pounding,

ship exploded a desolate fireball

as she bowed over him

lips to his,

spluttering coughing

found himself exhausted

and willing in her eyes

bonded by kiss

in eternities grasp

bones lost to violence

blunt nailed waitress peered

out of window,

watching a white Ford side step

move through a channel

of fading snow,

engine abrupt in the silence

crawling on wet tires

behind the wheel

eyes filled with cluster of stars

that waited for him,

knew he would use rifle and pistols

lain on the passenger seat,

an older man ducked in through

a door from the sidewalk

anticipation filled centuries bones,

oak casket shadows lengthened

over street,

as to traffic signals and crossroads

paused muffler rumbling,

a man stepped out a short distance

ahead and raised a rifle

sounding with a quick report,

windshield shattered

ducking across seats,

other men appeared

bullets clattered and punctured metal

crawled out the door

and as a shield returned fire,

blunt nailed waitress

placed hand on stomach

with a soft flutter,

from the roof of the bank

rifle leveled

became a victim tumbling to asphalt

with rifle expended

took up the guns his grandfather wore,

tightening belt

histories confidence made him stand,

before drawing

bullet clipped his shoulder

wincing not falling

fanned the gun,

two others fell,

a voice shrieked stop

blunt nailed waitress

stood between them,

gunsmoke scented cold air,

it had to be resolved

but not this way,

for the sake of a child

conversation was born

dVersePoets

snow white

a morgue at three am

let in by shorty,

not a nice place to visit

let alone work,

by walls of brushed steel doors

vaults of death

hidden human forms,

middle row on the left was one,

modesty sheet

not to keep her warm

he looked on

as this his fifth night,

tugging away the sheet,

touching her breast

tracing cold lividity

that place

a special place

he went as he had done

so before,

finding his release

never of thinking

of how it would of been

had she been alive,

eternal sleep

poisoned once

so caught up this time

passion spent

leaned forward

and kissed her

lips still ruby red

she awoke

not to embrace

not to love

but devour her prince

consume his soul

to her own need

,

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

fever on the funship

grampus in my thoughts

vessel resonant to pharaoh’s dance

from a bitches brew,

no mirror

no media

in any sarcasm would find me

i would smoke

i would dance,

old hulk decks creaking

as my silk collar shines,

from cabin to hold

the merriment stretches,

i would distance myself

and not be portrayed

anonymous to all but the

lips and tongue i entwine,

whiskey manufactured in the south

smoky sweet tingle,

it was migration

or mitigation

of many ravenous appetites

bologna sausage and sweet mutton,

so vibrantly lost

room extended that i was hidden

faceless in the extreme,

music of davis found me

wanting more,

gilt frame my hair once neatly combed,

come grampus

tilt on rolling waves,

find me a place

of nonchalant obscurity,

saxophone and drum

the ariel had been lost

it was memory that

dragged me down

into the depths

that would fill my lungs

with salt water,

careful heart placement

extracted blood from veins

i was infused with a rhythm

that could only lead to one conclusion

i was intimate in my body

with all of one species,

more smoke

more mirrors,

hearing snare and guitar

long days vanished

a place found

yet i could not reveal

who i totally

am