I broke an egg
soft boiled
watched the yolk
spread
in the whorehouse
of my soul
i thought
of my yolk
spread
over your breast
as I kneel
and urge
over
your sleeping
shape
my mess
your anger
limp disaster hung
itself
on my brittle facade
you left
exit by the door
i now look at
knowing
this egg will
not taste any better
mersey moonlight and shine
across the hills
to river dee,
wind whispers
in the trees and grass,
of park
and shipyard sinew,
bricks of sweat and toil,
urban sprawl,
where smugglers coins
fell to sand,
lighthouse flickers
seen by little eye,
sandstone tremors
and gentle veil of mist,
i feel home
cradled by the lake
and shivering masts
of a yachting few
all photographs copyrighted to Karen Lawrence / SpikeyMouse Photography and all images and others can be bought at
http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/karen-lawrence.html?tab=artwork
follow her on facebook https://www.facebook.com/KarenLawrencePhotography
twitter @joefishy
blog https://karenlawrencephotography.wordpress.com/
seismic interuptions
with sun borne gas epicentre
thunderous resonance of the cosmos,
catching messages from those afar,
accidental theorists
will counter color and comma’s of red,
is it a soup
our primal soup vindicating our creation
pulsing veins of human arrogance
take out a thousand letters to the truck,
count the terrorists who will object to
seeing her,
yes in the window of our setting harmony,
naked without dressing
and man’s venhement spit
cast from the place of serpents dwell
crawling with a whetted vengenance
and absolute length of time to survive,
her womb a dish
for the swimming and the egg to explore
and collide with cellular distraction,
it is her charm in nakedness to be our fear,
her gaze outreaches to that fury
of orange concentrics and geometry
we will be seen
we will be born,
to live by those messages
from those afar
Robert Delauny
behind hood and dashboard
his mind with hers
still rested in the ninth house,
blacktop travelling at interstate speed,
control firm,
music loud not slight,
with a long sigh pressed her head against
him,
often as companions traveled
now had a quest,
possessions as much as they where
poured into the trunk to be sorted on
arrival,
unwind as you will from society,
be bold in the colors
your heart has started to wear,
those who are skeptical
will not understand,
that beyond that frontal lobe threshold
lies a dense form
filled with thought and the saturate
of free will,
no alexander sword could cut
the feeling
each blow opposed,
red paint reflects those horses and riders
galloping along side with defined stride,
the future lies in the echoes
of the smile
dusky book store
scent of mold and words,
shelves lopsided,
piles stacked uneven
cashier at small round desk
could even be a fixture,
touching book flesh
leather embossed
crackle spine,
fabric , cardboard,
trembling nerves
anticipation,
sliding out of shelf
mottled pages
gold leaf edged,
type not seen anymore,
wallet beats as a
separate heart,
wanting to part
with dollar flow,
so many
so much infidelity,
the yearning has a keen edge
trying to objective,
to select the ones
you want to share
your home and
life with.
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2012/09/03/weekly-writing-challenge-a-few-of-my-favorite-things/
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