Tombstone early morning tide;
splintered shell pierces pallid skin,
sculls along labyrinthine veins –
underwater aural pound,
spikey versed consumptive curse
lodged in lungs and liver-skinned skeins.
rasp-ridden, sleep-deprived weep.
Saturation deep-strips hue.
Ululation over; nude lips hunker
beneath orbs scraped of colour –
Blithe metronomic music box,
soft strains propelled by pulse beneath,
spring-driven motor rotates teeth,
steel pin-encrypted comb unlocks.
In time the rime-encrusted chimes
scrape, grate and grind the cogent cogs;
stalled core harmonic slips its sheath,
its metronomic music boxed.
Filed under Octain, Poetry
I glimpse you in transposition,
fish-hooking me in the bar-room glass;
parentheses frame a lop-sided grin,
picture-light lit by flickering grey-greens.
razor burn me with your beauty;
swift, dark-lashed flash of recognition.
Sweeping familiarity to the fringes,
we weave curios through soft fingers
scooping up the nascent swell
of a longed-for new beginning.
After days of clawing
the same wet wound,
encased in the fetor
of a hessian tomb,
pus-drenched and sodden,
to pass wraith-like
in cat-tailed corridors,
shrinking from contact,
slinking into tired,
until the mewling ceases.
~ Artwork by the Syrian poet Adonis. The text is an assemblage of pre-Islamic writings which speak of peace and against oppression.
The road to Damascus is littered with arms;
dealers dodge bullet points in NY,
better suited than mooted –
Monger’s wage war on
packing Tommy’s hardware in MDF –
guns out, bodies in;
Beneath Hom’s rubble-strewn streets
incubators blink as infants slip
down humanity’s sink.
Lain beneath the filigreed dust
of a spattered mackerel sky,the
snaggle-toothed, black matted mongrel,
wet tongue lolling over spracked
slack lips, its sickly damp dog smell,
blood-bloated fetid breath,
embraces easy slumber, rattlesnake
snores and lumbers light,
beneath the adipose surface,
its conscience unencumbered.
On Canicular days I would poke
with a stick or slick-sharped blade,
bid him wake to rake my face
with rancorous claws but not today.
The dog days are long past, now
rapture fasts while winter feasts.
Let the lying canine sleep,
I choose to bury the baying beast.
Crepuscular nuance rides
narrow gauge; consumptive
curse of vagrant verse
leaves core scraped
and roots raked.
Quotidian drags out grey
doldrum days, till tempus
flees along the breeze.