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jinjahman Nov 2010
Precipice candle-lit
camouflaged burns torn
woken fast in ****** bayonet
frocks insatiably milk churned

I tripped and called out your name
on falling prowling came to mind
through an unknown gate, late
and then I woke dizzy
spokes unfettered but meaning less
than before
while wheeling down hills of never ending
clever proportions swung
towards Home

Precipice candle-flicked
dark on the front
escaping to the black
houses of clutter
where no one lives
and camouflage licks
dashed hopes from the wounds
of all fires ever there
inflicted and spooned

undertow slept
as I dreamed
pistacchio nuts in dry lap
watching a harmless movie
go away Scene
come back in the Act
splinter my porous nut
over a hard stone of sultry solace
jinjahman Aug 2010
The form the moon took against a single, silver cloud;
Dog-eared and dumb as a wasteland.

A fretted combination of changing elements
Ships by majestically
Calling time to its slendered oval side

Inundating us from a height
Shepherding tom-foolery with its light
I, oh only I,
Oh lonely lunar Mee,
Looking at the sky to see
The shape of blacksmith's vision
In the night;
The caress of silver on the forehead
From the moon's fledgling smithereens.

I cast a glimpse and
Sense a stray sheet of

Creation above, like a baking tray;
Puffing, shifting, darkening.
Elements in an oven.

Congregation of thought with
Madness on the left and
Silly sickness in the middle

Conjured up-
Sense on the right!

Cajoled-
*** on the brain

Coated in-
Hard leather bush-tights

Plato polite on every oval ***** side
Evilness lurking where goodness hides;

Be a good fellow
- dont be shy
Unleash the cry
- bellow,
HOWL
Say hello-ow-ololo-ow in
- tremolo
Like you're no longer scared
- or yellow

..of instant indelibility
Impossible to remove, erase, or wash away; permanent:
Don't stare at the moon too much
jinjahman Aug 2010
finger flame
lit world
blue and orange and blue

through the fog of fever
and snorker of cold
and gristful mill of herringbow meal

single flame glows
brings us to flesh point
scintillating
tickle-ish
boasting glazed
hearth-rug hair

castoff from chocolate wrapper
and bath salts and flowed floored robe
breath in
chin up
smile and step
for best foot forward

into tinsel
out of wool
from the ****
to the blow
wary fairy
clutching hitman's soft downy
forearm hair
exchange
jinjahman Aug 2010
To the lions den:
hope no dust gets in my eye
before I'm eaten.
priorities skewed by stress
jinjahman Jul 2010
The dork just stood there, Man!
Peeling back his mask
Then folding it back down again.

What a chancer!
Breaking in klangers;
Tip toeing through hoops;
Belching on tap;
Crapping on sand paper;
Bleaching hot tap,
With water-eye presentation
Flown from afar
In the cargo hold for Mr. Black,
Mount Nero;
Cnoc Dubh.

What's the fuzz?
what's the craic?

Let him have it
In 2's and 3's
End of:
'Life's a breeze'

Corporate jingomuggery
Daylight shrubbery
Catchall quantum thuggery
"Put him back in the hold"
Goodbye Mr.Black,
Mount Nero;
Cnoc Dubh.

What's the craic?
What the fuzz?
perhaps a hint of disdain for Chancers, though we've all been there in one form or another, so a sliver of respect at the same time!!

— The End —