ardors grip
blinding as searing light
tears open caring heart
anger as old as creation,
tears at family daisy chain
crushing stems
leaving it broken
unhooked green stems
wilting broken asunder
where was the stars
and the open eyes
heart chimed
a mother resolute
that a son will be
not dead to her
but salvage
to be gathered
and supported
mending can be heard
in the blur of tears,
fragile dreams
will be recovered slowly
with different endings
when the darkness
vanishes
Tag Archives: paj huam
feathers of the elephant
tattooed with gandhi
no skin will lie,
bare butt piss
constant lemon stream,
she watched his fuzzy back
dark mat of curls
lined by her nails,
depressed bed
mattress coils gone
before their advertised expiry,
a week of this
longing and urgent,
walking back
she waited
a sharp twinge in her stomach,
the next day
could not come quick enough
Charles Bukowski – Laughing Heart
Charles Bukowski
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
songs of the heart
suns pity shines
on the damaged boat,
listless resting on rocky beach
cracked paint and clouded windows,
once and a while ago
it moved on inlet
under sail and motor
bright painted with bright young things
sipping drinks,
swim shorts and bikinis
cast off bottles
peeled labels no messages
sink if not carried by current
settling with pale crabs
moving over bottom
withe sideward indifference
creations blood flowed,
and they aged,
a parked sedan
jacketed against the cold
a mans hand touched bow
feeling that old electricity,
seeing the vibrancy
that once had been
a life of splendor
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
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
others false horizons
her tears passed through
porous cheeks
to be shed again in happiness,
they opened a living room
in her head
space unmirrored void of shine,
can her body be more
than a flesh machine,
facing the cashier
was that smile as false
as nails and lashes,
did he leave you
startled by such a personal voice
that probed,
leaning back from her
leaning forward,
men are useless you know
she did not want to respond
instead put mayo
cheese and pasta in a bag
paid and left
leaving cashier
to fuss with tied back
dyed blonde hair,
waiting for another customer,
in the parking lot
a wind whipped off the lake,
opening tailgate
placed bag in,
and leaned on car side
memories studded her mind
and laughed
loud enough for only herself
to hear
dVersePoets
angels at the pagan threshold
landscape seen by standing eye
on wind stripped rooftops edge,
answers pilgrims of nausea
fall as if from the depths of the sky,
horizon alone with forest
sun faced green silk and gold,
tracks of those who journey in faith
into the still of wooded glade,
within voices imagined
brambles pulled by enraged fingers
mess and tangle hide
that place used as a remote hope,
he should be there
pale faced
emotions a fountains stream
pleasure would not be found
with slackened vines,
this horizon embraced him
pulled into its complex afternoon
where time lie down
petal seconds fall,
chaos is not for choosing
sleep will not be heeded
as these files of thought
are put away,
staunched by class,
those in power jailers to tomorrow,
gas would fill indecent blue
and many more would fall,
for the sake
of secrets of kings
wordle
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
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