Early High
Wet grass
covered in dew
-lay till my backs wet-
covered in you,
with waving arms
and an angels grace,
flatten the ground
till my image is traced.
Smile up at
the not-yet sunshine—
dim-blue-grey
of a morning
high time.
Whistle with
the icy breath
of the wind—
how I wish
everyday
of my life
would begin.
Part and Apart
Trailed over waterfalls
on snow-flakes freezing
brittle steps
and watched the sun
—so carefully—
it might just melt them
underneath my feet.
Away I’d wash
into the streams,
or so it seems.
I’d have to be
like water flows
and change my pace
and what I know—
a melted dream
is not
always a tear.
I’ll find a way
to freeze again,
or better yet
evaporate.
And wake within
the shifting clouds,
and wake within,
and wake within.
Ignoring Bullets
They shot at his folly(a volley of judgement)
cracking hard on the walls
as they muttered: “repugnant”.
The outcome was flawed(not too keen in their standards)
but they stood and
they glared with a leering of slander.
“How could this be;How could it be done?
…
Re-blogging a submission to artistically suppressed and contemplating whether or not I have the energy to write anything decent right now…
Starting Over
I took a lace in each hand
(at times I thought I’d never learn)
slipping through the wrong side
—when crossed—I’d make a wrong turn.
A loop that wrapped around
so many times to get it right.
A bow remained to keep it strong—
the loose ends rapped together (tight).
And when it was finished
it could always be pulled free…
Rats
Coughing up
a coloured sludge.
Terminally ill,
where cells without keys
remain locked.
The rats all passing
through the bars
and licking up
the stains.
I stand before the door,
attempting to grease
the metal spires
with my disease.
Inside the Chest
Caging bones (smooth to touch)
whistled through the gaps.
A sound that only one could hear
contained within their pounds of flesh.
They (the one) could not explain
where that which made their whistling came.
They only knew one thing for sure
it changed its pitch as feelings turned.
Give and Take
Anxiety is a mess
that never got cleaned up.
A stain on a white robe;
the piece of mangled bone
that healed as a deformation.
A slow fading over time
as it seems to become natural.
It is the tugged down black sacks
that keep you awake,
and the shapeless figure
emerging in the smoke of your dreams.
Corruption, alienation, lost hope.
These are simply undertakings
for a mind that’s been consumed.
We are simple creatures
We are simple creatures.
We do simple things.
Actions that will linger—
be they salty, sour, sweet.
Candy-coated truths
and lemon-wedged mistakes.
We are simple creatures.
We have simple tastes.
Another Round!
Chest tucked into the counter
I asked the tender
to send another beer my way.
Pulled out of a shabby
looking bar fridge
he popped the cap
and slid it along
the splintering bar top.
Its bottom edge tipped
on a ridged groove
half way down.
Leaned out to catch it,
fell chest first,
(half a second after)
with the sultry sound
of broken glass
rattling my eardrums.
I looked up to see
it soaking into the floor boards,
and cupped my hands
to sip it through
the shards of glass
cutting my inner-lips.
They stung from
the sweet escape of alcohol
as I tried to see my reflection
in the remains of the tinted bottle—
I had no pride left.
