ROCK THE CRADLE

Circles without end
years of angry words
days of silence
that took your love away
a will that would not bend
breaking childhood dreams
streams of your tears
that in time were mine
and the shame that I grew
to do the same to you,

BUZZ

Buzzards flying all around
heavy motion in the sky
wings hung low and sharp eye.
I keep two feet on the ground
sit but won't lie down..

binary sequential
this glide of seconds
in a slow blink

chorus
of shadows
behind the screen

the dark satin worlds
thoughtlands
bending like a head wind
in dune grasses
and naked dark seas
dancing with the froth of
clouds misted
and cool

perforations
of light
penetrating
soft as a touch

tender remonstrances
stipple
edged

dancing in the sprinkler
puddles
an upside down day
bejewelled
like a fallen crown

Happenstance

The snow queen’s tears start freezing on alabaster cheeks
as the jester slices off his face
maids and minions of the court rush to lick the blood
and time bends inward leaving empty space

nothing is as nothing was, and nothing will become
the essence of itself and nothing more
fantasy is blasphemy, acceptance never real,
reality itself is but a whore

Silently it falls,
And sometimes roars
On sweeping nights
When air is knives
And cold a living thing
But quietly now it falls
On sleeping prairies
Sacred in long slumber,
Remnants of a younger world
Where cynicism soon
Remembers emptiness
Of open treeless plain
And softness touches
Upturned face with wonder
As a gentle hiss of falling
Makes voiceless piled drifts
Made blue in shadow and silver
Rise up to kiss
The climbing freeze of pale moon

Au dessus

the grains scratch the incorrect way
the capillaries burst and now it gives sway
blood congealed with thick human pain
a skyline filled with red and black rain

a Marianas trench of wounds
an Everest of angry swoons
a little sign of darkness falls
to torch the writing on the walls

we force it onto each other's soul
the final purity's burning coal

goes

out

vibratto static
windsheild thump
crushed filter tip
beneath her pump

a night of falling glass
crashing like stars
the shattered stash

fed fire nocturna
blazing in coal
rouge
smear

drip sighs
stretched
beneath
damp denim
saphire

she drinks
volumes
saturated
while the gleaming
blur
rushs past
exasparated

vinyl and river
deep
zipper claws
running
seams
like disturbed
and broken
dreams

A Gentleman's Muse....

Feeble men we are that stand idly by,
while children suffer on our docile watch.
Don’t we care when we hear them cry?
as the soldier’s gun earns another notch.

Oil they say is it more important than a life,
won’t be that when it runs out and their cold.
I also need it’s money to keep my lovely wife,
clothes, jewellery, all investments, so I’m told?

I learned this
deprivation is the sperm
of sexualist poetry
and
to add some spice to the taste of finality
mix a woman's X chromosome
to give a tail either in front or rear
take it as thou wish

Shakespeare’s and bards like me
are not anointed every moment
ask the creators here

and

denigrators for their vision

Epicurial poetry I shan't adhere
let me be free and lonely
my poets dear

Her newly shorn
platinum tresses
revealing a neck forlorn
of kisses un-broached
funny how exposed
and virginal
it suddenly appears
to her beloved

The sweet nectar
beading like
latent weepings
on meringue
in contrast
remind him of Southern Belles
frosted from demure talcum
dustings

Half-formed dredged memory
fires his tongue
onto his dessert...