Posts Tagged ‘war’

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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

bourbon

bourbon is made
bourbon is great for sipping
bourbon is not
bourbon is a family
bourbon is aged for 8 years
in new charred oak barrels
which is
lying to me
giving me eyes that see different
bourbon is a cross between an
autumn damask and a china rose
like you
eaten up by my madness
bottle madness
bourbon is velvet
cloaking the truth
despite all efforts
those eight years had gone

 

baton

baton is the tool
baton is probably the best one you get
baton is conducive for cabaret shows
baton is carried around
baton is rolled back and forth on arms
baton is great to defend yourself
baton is great for use in all
bondage and discipline situations
and comes as
baton is available in 16″
baton is best for crowd control situations
caligula would be proud
orgy proportions of a spanking latex riot
baton is combat
loss of control the eroticism
lost to a carnival mind
baton is in the hand it can twirl
baton is a sport that never really ends for me
camus you gave us him
caligula in his glory
no it is a counterpoison
antidote feeling beyond the math
baton is a non

 

pepper spray

pepper spray is often carried in the backcountry by biologists
pepper spray is on the agenda for today
pepper spray is safe
pepper spray is not a bear
pepper spray is made in the USA and factory fresh
pepper spray is a 1/2 ounce canister that is cased by stylish
plastic spongebob graphics
krusty krab innocence
of spatula mayhem
the enemy plankton
pepper spray is used on psychiatric patients
pepper spray is not for sale in Hawaii
so it cannot belong in
a pineapple under the sea
pepper spray is hot
at the burning griddle
plankton’s kind collected
searing their flesh
shaping and forming it to be
something edible
pepper spray is not a bear
as they cannot be found in our blue oceans
where our nation innocence
is a star in an armchair

 

 

 

if rambo sewed curtains
instead of his arm
what strength would he
place in the cotton,
resilience to tugs and pressure
from a climbing cat
or a child wishing
to see snow from a
winters window,
it need not be war
it need not be pain,
sometimes curtains close
out the things we wish
not to see,
but does rambo need
to sew them every time

poetry , poem

Rambo

alexander rodchenko war of the future 1930

 

Alexander Rodchenko magazine illustration War Of The Future (Voina budeshchego) a constructivism montage this had a documentary feel stating chemical warfare fall and collapse as seen by his analytical mind which also looked at conflict as a whole

shadows standing empty

as we moved from the tree,

he worked with sweat for bread,

she wore only handmade dresses

fabric accumulated from a saving mother,

he had written to her heart

as it understood the depth

that his motive went to,

every day in lengthy plan

hours conceived into moments

stolen away from the factory

to the hill,

sanctuary of silence from the state

propaganda and revolution,

fresh baked filled the air with a resonance,

they as patriots fervent as they are lovers,

planned wedding and battle

as an intertwined plan,

analogy of expectation

that had no sourness,

ignore siting safe indoors

sound the bells of union,

warm tingle of happiness

before the steely clamor

of guns

spring-1935 kuzma petrov-vodin

magpie tales statue stamp 185

 

stressed cotton gripped,

lithograph shapes move

incoherent blemishes

caught by tired eye,

already a haven

checked by those who love,

yet still cold

comes to linger as an

unwelcome friend,

that closet door moves

with slow intent,

tomorrow a long voyage away

and the captain is

losing the wheel,

wanting to send up flares

light kerosene lamps,

to see

bedroom ocean

hindered by furry forms

that sulk in masses,

stories stringed words

hung across the mind

cranial denial,

cotton scrapes

a loose floorboard resonates

without help

from human form,

as captain he needs a crew,

crew of rag and plastic

to his call they rally

corners become embattled

cotton pushed aside,

sails on pine vessel,

beneath the night

a warrior born

clouds of gods look down,

moon casts a charming glow,

a battle cry

loud inside a voice parents

can never here,

on deck face splashed

by waves of memory,

wheel in his grasp

volley and surge

crackled into the night

with electric interference,

lips once moist

with mothers milk

now bloodied call proud,

monsters fled

lines defiled and beaten

each rushing over the fallen,

he would not be wounded

he would not falter,

time a soft blanket

on which he tiredly fell

sleep devoured

and all this would be

a satisfying memory by morning,

but not the claw embedded

in bedroom wall

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