THE THORNED ROSE

there was no softness
in your anger
no love in your eyes
those times
that made a young heart
stop beating.

Your tears became mine.
I was your child
not your consolation.

And the day you died
did you see me
standing by your side
or was I
your last illusion

draw a day deep
her tide shelter
the kelp and cockerels

the winds carrying
burning peat

I fear that you are beyond change
....prove me wrong

That compromise to you is strange
....prove me wrong

I think arrogance is your true self
that you think you are a king
and your way is the only one
that none can teach you anything
and you control the tides and sun
....prove me wrong

I don't think you mean what you say
or even care what others think
you think you're on some holiday
....prove me wrong

Perspicacious pimps make jingles out of crime.
The crèche of dope is there, if you need ‘quiet time’.
Incipient, the sushi train roars round the bends of fate,
Princess Origami smokes 'cause Madam Skim is late.

Animals on menus, the blood of saints for sale.
Refugees from a sunken earth scuba dive beyond the pale.
Madam Skim now orders up to celebrate the end
of another war where no one knew who was foe or friend.

He's her private dancer
he enchants her
his fluid limbs romance her

She's obsessed
her soul he possess
his movements undress

Power is obscured
he never says a word
but she is always lured

He's paid to fulfil her whim
but she'd do anything for him
he's away, her lights go dim

One day he doesn't show
her jealousy aglow
"Where is he"? she wants to know

She raises his fee
doesn't see the irony
thinks "he's dancing only for me"

old,
which is gold
never mind still I will appear
as yesterday there would have been a tear
when I fell almost to finality
ere fatality
my deafness and the road least taken
were at fault,
as I took the tunnel of darkness
to avoid wrath
there was then the calamity
I wanted you to know
wow, fell flat in the darkness
no one knows,
yet in pain with broken arms
a shattered shin
and a twisted knee
all the pain got better of me,
as fatality
relatives all turned docs to salvage

In Olden Days were deity
to worship from a bended knee.
Their numbers were as grains of sand
with different names in every land.
And orisons were never free.

The sailor sued upon the sea,
the farmer from his field’s ennui,
but not for Man had idols planned
in Olden Days.

Reform betides us presently.
The long engaged theomachy
is fought with fewer gods on hand.
Still Man must sacrifice withstand
and ever do the Nations flee
the Olden Days.

The last golden leaves of autumn
sit quivering atop the tree
all having left the limbs on bottom
left them nude for all to see

Indeed it seems that this strip tease
of fall is coming near its end
as tatters drift down on chill breeze
each tapping limbs in northern wind

They garb the ground in garish paint
at least until they fade to dun
beneath the light now growing faint
as shadows stretch from setting sun

ripped into existence,
a near year coma complete
warned by vaginal resistance
we appear here without teeth.

without warm fur or claws
without agility or strength
critiqued for physical flaws
including genital length

will it – be a healthy slut?
will it – be ugly and alone?
will it – make more of us?
will it – obey what its shown?

“responsible for” is not love.
a species wide delusion.
how selfish demanding they rise above
your life’s meager prostitution.

The night was clear, the stars shone fierce,
and starlight through the foliage pierced.
The fields were open, vacant glades
of stagnant air and bending blades.
The rivers quiet, waters still 5
beside the foot of aging hill.
The banners limp in standing air
and towers gleaming proud and fair.
The clouds were gone, the sky was clear,
yet closer crept a shadow drear. 10
With each rank breath it slithered on,
toward the banks of Lilion.
It slithered on with each rank breath:
the malevolent face of death.