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May 2012 · 1.8k
when in sheol
allan harold rex May 2012
Muggy murky dawn clogged with gloom the abbey

Where his grampy sleeps ,

Through

the drizzles fizzle

As native orchids embosoms and blossoms in his lost vault.

like a curfew drawn in the church

The pew lost its crowd

With the paws of time.

Lone man sleep

In deep latin chants they petrify you

Before sheol purifies you

And litany literature lecture limbs you

When in overprotected embankments of battlements

They dry their garbs

Where your lore forayed growth

And sweat smeared smelt breathed wealth

Chagrin dreams washed ashore

lay as upon a cold mornings recollection on a tabloids sold column

which drew your freckles bolder

In a savour of remembrance

For your zealous zealots

Who on an another 'all souls day' reoccur revisiting

the truth of their establishment


in prayers
The good Lord adorn you
Let Lekker dreams cradle you
Your consorts concert never consume you
And earth never haunt you
May 2012 · 1.2k
the foam fluff and the filth
allan harold rex May 2012
Evening hours of playing
peekaboo with the sun
And i lay down lavender words
loping and longing in my
journey to you
Crossing infinities of time
Chiding my days
And chastising my ways
For you to return
When you retreated like a soft
murmur
Like gentle untuned ripples
Like the melancholic wind that
blows and draws in through
my window
Addressing my pages and
leaving without reciting my
rhymes
Like the fumble fuming puff
hailing then slowly fading and
failing
Foamy and fluffy with the
froathy cream yet not
savouring the flavour
Calling yet not caressing
Rhyming yet not flowing
Leaving me like a vagabond
With a foramen self
Grappling ,gripping and then
giving the grave,
the soul you gave
May 2012 · 1.1k
the shadows palms
allan harold rex May 2012
THE SHADOWS PALMS
STRETCHED IN THE EBONY ROADS
MUSING ON THE BLOCKS OF RUGGED STONE STEPS
GARNERED AND GATHERED BY CHAFED PALMS.

STRADDLING OVER THEM
THE DEEP FURROWS AND HEATED BROWS
NOW BROWN AND TANNED WEARING
A RUMMAGED MOUSTACHE OF CLIMBING VINES.

EVERY STEP AMUSES,
A MUSE THAT DOES NOT CEASE TO AMUSE,
IN THE HEAT OVERDOSES.


AND WHEN THE ARECA PALMS PALIPATING
IN ARRAY
HOIST ABOUT LIKE ROWS OF MEN DOPED


IN CEILED BANKS OF DISTRUST
A CYNICAL NILA CRIES ,
HER PLUNDERED SANDS.


NOW THE SUNKEN FERRIES ,
HAVE APPEARED AT HER BAY,
AND PAINFULLY CHAFE EACH OTHER.


A ***** FROM THE BOTTOM
STIRRING THE BELL FOR THE REQUIEM
PAY THE FERRYMEN.


FOR THE WAYFARERS WAFFLED WRITINGS
ARE ADDRESSED
TO THE MEN WHO PLASTERED HER WALLS ALONE
May 2012 · 2.7k
the desert lizard
allan harold rex May 2012
scuttling across the valley,
the trench was deep and steep

scorching heat of the dry sun,
dried blemishes on the weathered skin.

Settling along the rocky facades,
hackneyed by the haunting past.

Sleepless nights of the perching predators,
Hibernating in aloof worlds .

Stymied by the wind in the barren land ,
Harnessed by the futile fears.

Simone Melchoir of the sinking ship ,
would not you go down with the fault.

Shunning away from natures affection ,
for every rose does share its thorn .

Sunny ends are reached ,
when the raging ravines fade away.

Slithering away the swirling serpent ,
The sun lurks in the brewing storm .

Sanctity of the witheld winds ,
sapping away the deathly darkness.

Serene air of the seraphic angel,
brought the plighting dreams to the refugees repose

Smelting ores and melting poles,
brimming with brightness the cradled cirque .

Summons of the exalted virtue ,
To burn the lizard and fly away like the phoenix

Succumbing to the wilderness,
to soaring heights and rising spirits .

Swanking in the soothing winds,
the phoenix looked down on the plundering valley.

Scorning at the downtrodden spirits,
The fraternity of the Desert lizard
May 2012 · 1.8k
the trippers travelogue
allan harold rex May 2012
Rustle in the leaves,
tussle with the vines,
afoot in the tree of life,
the gutsy snake coiling,
Raddled and rattled with mans sin,
Divulgence to the loner who cherished the fruit,
in the dusky orange red skies which brought in the adhen
and from the tolling bells in the distant church ,
While the snake lolloped in the stark blue skies,
Manipulating this oppo for the abyss.
The wandering seam of the night,moon,
With flickering light forbade the seance on the seemlessly never ending night,
Pity the snake for another morn would rise
For it will have to go to the *** ,no the pit.
The ***** and cuckoo within cooee , chanted and coerced another morn out !
Following the sun like the grail, the people lounged in to the waters of the ganges.
While broods of hurted children huddled in hate,
hurling stones at the traitor.
Hauling the renegade into the throngs,
Hunnish hands assaulted him until he swooned in to the motherlands lap,
Hue and cry of the avengers brought in the tripper,
Heavy loads hugged on to his shoulders,
In poise words he spoke,
''for every creation has its flaws,
And when we batter on the withered soul,
It leaves the barren man dry again,
To ward off evil is like blowing into the forges of Vulcan,
And only when tests and temptations are burnt in the bonfires of joy,
will man be moulded into a joyous being''
Hissing whisphers from the crowd spoke,
Heresy of the tripper is the hold,
Hasten yourself and bring our brother medication,
Hunt down the snake will we,
For this vagabond has spoken in verses,
Only to be filed in the trippers travelogue.
Hushed up as the snake in the pit.

— The End —