Posts Tagged ‘poet’

oscillation of my heart

a thrum of false applause

nova wheel turns

in loose hands palms sweaty

streetlights searing flares

in greasy windshield stain

accelerating with measure

not panic

plastic neon afterglow

rearview shadows and transcience

nicotine once craved

alcohol once craved

cardboard cup balanced

lid slipped with brown liquid

it’s smell filling nostrils

along with dog

and after days perfume

arguments

those voices thrown and snatched

can be taken back

into a street

cop car drawled on by

tree lined urban paradise

front porch orange glow

parked

engine silently waiting

would she disturb the curtains to see

nothing

was he wrong

then he remembered

she was gone

they where gone

counselling for grief

counselling for depression

arguments outlive those who shout

that once beautiful house

invaded

shotgun splattered

with crimson design

rocking slowly to and fro

applause had silenced

into the false abyss

he would be in the shadows

a footnote on a headstone

living without a porch

accelerating

foot on gas

rubber black stained

breathing in circles

window open

a destination yet unwritten

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then tomorrow

Posted: October 17, 2017 in My Poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

cracked on cheap wine

liver brushed

tongue licked by camels

lying in semi stasis

not being illiterate

book slithered to floor

words melting into wood

she was by the full length mirror

naked with no breath left

she was my descent

her depths a surge of rapid currents

I could not read anýmore

tenderloin buttocks moved

her vagina a well visited republic

it’s musty sweetness

gave me a fugue of absurdity

return to me

return to me

her snowy gut roll belly

over my lips

kissing tongued glassy traces

jackrabbit twitching

lowered herself to me

I was forgiven

I had absolution

sweet poetry and flesh

shuddering silver dollars

into the meter

my time running out

would return to book

and motel walls

she a neon scrawl on my eyes

then there would be tomorrow

Coughing out the lightness in

smoke and spiral motes of dust

mutable bed and our body acquisitions

cuttlefish ass damp from before

if I was not so ignorant

i would feel again

the tapestry of tattoos on her flank

precise inks more trustworthy

than my cock of threat

in denial and veiled seduction

pressed against her

the hum of bee air conditioning

positioning for me with rump pressure

she felt I could make her sparkle and shine

instead that tremored gasp

returning to her back

looking with a certain knowing

that I was a flake

who would leave and  betray

adding to that pile of detritus

and awful decay that was her life

they told me about the garden of love

which I knew never existed

just like the dew settles

a feeling came over me

reaching touching feathery leaves

someone lurked in the darkness

a glimpse a furtive shadow

i needed to draw out of the gloom

no fee to be paid

as wallet forgotten

my fingers picked a rose

holding it aloft to the sun

shadow emerged reaching also

for the rose

sunlit face exquisite beauty

naked radiance for me to see

entranced entwined enthralled

in a boiling swell of passion

i was consumed

infused with the flowers and trees

the garden in this garden

i would remain

many stories can be untold

but this one cannot

i belong to that once furtive figure

no more in the density of foliage

but with me

together as one

img_0370

Together always

22 years of marriage to be celebrated

a common girl

with barrow came

laden with folded cloth

the queen did look

and saw but nothing

yet advisors say

it is so beautiful

befitting for a millionaire

a common girl

seamstress sew perfect

said she could make

the most wonderful gown

a gown that those

on the other side

of palace walls

would admire and say

how radiant and divine

in chamber warmed

by embers of the poor

took this cloth

about her frame

and posed in mirror

that glittered gold

she did look divine

and decided on a procession

at the gates the dedicated few

who bought the mugs

and waved the flags

and sang anthem on

brainwashed breath

had heard of this

most wondourus gown

stepping from the carriage

the people

gasped in awe and horror

some began to cry

for this gown

the seamstress sewed

was of the flesh

of poor and subjugated

histories oppression an

awful stench

pinned together

with the bones of

crushed rebellion

the cheering stopped

more tears did flow

and a little boy

called out

she must go

gutless form of

grey flannel

and bowler hat

tapping briefcase

with finger

pencil callused

autocratic directions

of how the

shapeless should fit

tailors chalk on cloth

decisive lines

to trim or sew

mouths stitched so

neatly shut

limbs severed so that

the fall of material

should be so suitable

old money new money

contra entries

that become the washerwomans

laundry

in colonial towns

with brighter sun

and sweated brows

grey flannel choke

and soft eton tones

cruciform stretched

with benefits denied

g&t cold pink lemonade

taking canapes on landscaped lawn

take a bow doff your cap

grateful for what you

don’t receive

inbred subservience

of the golden age

long shadows

keeping us in the dark

mouth torn open

begins to shout

blood on lips

blood on tongue

strike a match

to cauterize

and light the beacon torch

flannel shadows

cannot keep us hidden

or denied

we have voices

as we are many

and you are few

 

copyyright Chris Lawrence