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

180

 

 

NPD_logo_colour_landscape

iron hearted sloth

convulsions in the temple
vomiting the shadow of my soul,
i had nothing more to give the moon,
after breaking holy vows
in the woodland with the sky
watched by a thousand ancients
needing voyeurism in their bones,
as a pathway to love,
bleak sonnets pass my lips
knelt in this loneliness,
in my ear
her voice crawled dusky
cloth to my senses,
as i wished to suspend myself
from a high bough
and linger in highest isolation,
that perfume creeps out of
your robe wrapped tight
my stillness dispels
endurance is not a beauty
lowering myself to your lips
sour kisses known to be daring,
i became a louse burrowing,
my sloth tendencies gone,
robe discarded
burnt confection of passion
hazed and forlorn
no more regurgitation
my eyes flared in their sockets
loins raw and slimed,
forgetting would be easier
as i click on the television

 

sedoka #2

clouds soft cloak nature

reign of fury dissipation

as drenched by isolation

furies last tremor she feels

he walks earthen tracks away

no more fury to caress

splendor and the urban glow

in it’s journey the air skins itself

from the day,

breathe free and roam

away from dark fragrances

that have the stench of destruction,

many colored flowers fear the sunshine

and bee’s in waxen cells wait,

assassin’s claim the holy star

as low shepherds no more as minstrels

play,

ample breasted ornament of the night

gives blessing suppliante aid,

zephyr brings the bleaching draft,

youths desire lanky and untold

held in his journals all that is confident

and private,

cold fires again made him bold,

but from the ground comes an ultimatum

don’t let sorrow bear down,

juicy flood and promised kiss,

half willing freeway traffic unfurls time

as it becomes trapped by clustered vine,

nourished from her bed

lust a luxurious blaze under saffron veils

adds more fever to a new day,

petals had spread from the laden stem,

but those minutes had left ravished eyes

and new reality subsided under overshadowing

wing,

with it’s horrid glare

the air has revealed all

3wordwednesday

At the bottom of the Moon

bare feet trod moonlight to dust

fine gravel texture

uneven to skin,

left behind the idle machines

that make dreams work,

gentle pace

aching feet,

silence is non negotiable

it fills the dark of night,

feeling of solitude

encroaches,

limbs torso illuminated,

lift lips to light

drink some,

as if pouring wine

down the throat.

nagging worries deferred

into a deeper region

of subconscious ,

as the interlude begins

properly

3wordwednesday

 

Necrosed Ideology

itch/

raw pressed flesh sore

beyond scabs flecked insolence

 

sigh/

blood threads awful sign

of tangible fluid

life in crimson

 

listen/

orchestrated pain

handheld waves of distraction,

tainted tongue sings mettallic

 

milky/

secreted thoughts weeping tears,

unfurled ideals a barren burned flag,

lighten the heart as you pick

 

rushes/

into the arena

no pressed olive leaves or branches

all that was ancient spilled

overnight into turgid oceans swell

 

glassy/

eyes of expectant ones

embracing the sore flesh your body

offers

tragic tide of words come

 

slicks/

the machinations of policy

as the wounded lain in constitution

heart blasts trumpet

from the top

all visibility is bright in context

and the healing begins

banner

 

the broken sweet and low

breathing long taken breaths

ocean pump heart

has no tired dismay,

brittle sand empties

breaking the vast silence

congealed brightness brought,

tenderness and ambivalence

white day out of mind

nothing seemed apparent,

thought flaps

as tattered curtains

taking no form,

bound by scent of incense

raising valiant blood fires,

almost holy,

freedom is an enduring harvest

that comes with water and prayers,

starlit beneath moaning sea

keep the disturbing flowers

to the edges of the room,

eastern carpets become thin

weave and weft,

show the dazed

feet can be placed assured,

no fear,

out of machines

comes the resonance we do

not want,

need time to look back

as the glass now empty,

by the light of a tremulous candle

all the unwanted scurries

as the shuffle of feet

leaves their exhaustion

clinging to the air,

they could of been

kings of the world