Gerald Locklin, a legendary local teacher, writer and poet who helped shape the literary landscape of Southern California for decades and was friends…
Gerald Locklin, CSULB teacher, writer, poet, dies at 79
A poet I admire and always enjoy reading
hospital sounds occurred as
limp wires stretched to where she lay
quiet
body traumatised by the crash
she would scar , she would heal
away without him
her abuser,possessor , nightmare husband
a moth glimmered in her eye
how did it get in
then seemed to grow
expanding into something larger
she managed a smile
as it settled upon her
she sighed
it’s body pressing on top
a noctuidae
face bearded wise
antenna folded, she wanted to touch
trying to speak intubated
a gargling slur of nothing
I will protect you
it seemed to say
a fair exchange would be
probiscus probing pressing
her vein rich neck
flowing with oxygenated life
it pierced her flesh gently
a soft penetration
unlike others experienced
she would be safe
the owlet moth said so
quiet
she slept
#PWpoetryprompt
cumulonimbus squall
of a headache
tore me out of delirium
to blister pack paracetamol
choked almost
that raw pharmaceutical taste
mug of tea
apple spiced
wishing the phone
would cease
exhausted now
as silence fell
I took to being asleep
with tainted tongue
and abstract thoughts
I look at my penis
skin collar
lychee tip
then piss
a long straw stream
you are not a memory
you are a gift
finger folds
and soften furze
we know we belong
but until when
the scythe decides
Chris Lawrence
when apes discover genocide
I wonder how long I will linger
on the verdant green and blue
insulated by my own sickness
that brackish bile
of human contempt
apes will sing not our mythology
but one of burnt forests
and dried out lakes
human carcasses so vile
carrion crows refuse
to dine without the thought
of consequence
and I will lie down
human leaf litter
becoming fertiliser of the new
season a generation
or era where the truth of nature
will win
Chris Lawrence
Concussed by mornings
sharpened light
grasping cotton silence
each breath was tentative
alone
without the other
that shadow fragment
of a once upon a night
recalling synaptic responses
she knew
he had departed
but to who
or where
tears where of no consequence
why shed them
fuck memories
and fuck those
who fucked them
paper cuts once
more painful
than the striating
marks on the heart
each ventricle incised
life a blood force
poured as if from
an unblessed chalice
closing eyes
cannot make you hide
slow each breath
coax intuition
to help
it is going
yield and go
fear of life
the greater threat
even with her
whisper kisses
From the city of Liverpool in England , comes a an epic tale from Peter Sinseeya and his studio , featuring a stellar cast that I am proud to be a small part of .
I look at the trailer again and marvel at the depth and scope of the story , a Liverpool fable or dream with deep undercurrents anyway watch the trailer follow Matopulas on all social media and give Peter a follow he will appreciate
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
the moving clouds
buddha puffs
of a slow conscious
scratched awake
by some yearning
for nothing absolute
but unreal
sucked out of a heart
of someone
once and never loved
sun stains
burns and blinds
i yield
and feel no more
