Friday, October 17, 2014

I Slid


I slid between the notes
Somewhere between E and F
I slid, caught in life’s
Harmonic minor scale
I could not rise to love’s
Seventh semitone

I slid, ensnared in
Melancholic dissonance
Of haunting fear,
History’s sub-dominant theme
Teasing with diminishing
Cycles of disharmony

The tonal reverberation
Of antiquity
The haunting silence
Of love’s absence
Still trapped in the
Murmuring present

I keep practicing
Love’s major scale
I try…….
So forgive me for longing
For the echoing resonance of

Eternity

Thursday, October 16, 2014

It's 1:30am


It’s 1:30am
I am awake
So is the willy wag tail
I wonder what his excuse is
For ripping the darkness
With his song
Hope beating in his breast
His song may pierce the dreams
Of a feathered mate
I lie listening
In breathing silence
Hope pierced by reality
Lies undisturbed
Within my breast
It’s 2:00am

I am awake

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Desire


Primal itch,
Tickling imagination
With aroused retina’s
Distended from desire
For blended body parts
Captured in salacious seconds

Craving, calibrated
In a centisecond
Reality bent with
Resourceful risk
To conform with
Imagining’s fantasy

We embrace with a smile
Fondling our phantoms
Caressing and climaxing
We pass,
Into the concreteness
Of reality


Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Really


I’m not angry,
Not really
After all, you say
Anger is a sin

I’m not angry
My face is painted
In a grin
Veneered thin

I’m not angry
For I am good
A marionette
On your string

Anger was your domain
Rage baked
In the kiln of your impotence
Glazed with God’s love

I’m not angry
You taught me well
The lies
Of self deception

I’m not angry
Though, if truth is told
The veneer has cracked
The string is cut

I’m filled with rage
I’d grab you
By your throat
As once you did to me

I’m filled with rage
A towering rage
That scares me
To my core

I’m filled with rage
I’d beat you to a pulp
But you have left the stage
Leaving your rage

Once more, I say
Though with a quaver
In my voice
I’m not angry

I’m not angry
Not really
But really
I am angry



Monday, October 6, 2014

Restless


Restlessness
Stalks, with
Irritable insistence

Latching with
Leech like intensity
On ligaments of lust

That balance adroitly
On the probability
Of risk and opportunity

Poised portraits
Lust compacted
Into twitter speak

Desire downsized, miniaturised
Chokes, shrivelling impotently
In the glare of blank stares

While fingers flick
The rosary of the screen

To keep restlessness at bay