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  Dec 2015 Dawn King
spysgrandson
rummaging through the ruins
of the landfill, his sole fellow explorer
a cur, content when his snout sniffed mold
blissful when he discovered a can

his aspirations grander than the canine,
he hoped to find artifacts of the ancients,
and digging deep he did, an Apple, one of Job's
first magical machines, the monitor
dull but without a solitary crack

then a turntable, its diamond stylus
long turned to nub, veneer half peeled
by the blade of time--its final symphony spun
eons ago, or at least two dozen years

finally a Dr. Pepper sign, an old as time,
its 10, 2 faint but still there, its 4 long gone
the masterpiece's artist never lamenting
its weathered fate: he too had his time
his labors filling his pockets, pleasing
his eyes, and immortalizing him
in the open bowels of the earth
Dawn King Dec 2015
I am merely an alter ego of a former self.
  Dec 2015 Dawn King
South by Southwest
She is a cold wind
Glistening white glacial skin
Full of separation and crystals
ice , blue black sky , and thin

Thin lips penguin straight
uttering crisp words of fate
Frozen breath and heart
she invades your open gate

Gate swings by force
Her will of course
And you shiver . . . fear ?
As your voice grows coarse .

Coarse by Par
you can't get far
As you wish to be away
But she's trapped your star

Star , comets , galaxies too
You are captured  due
To the black whole Sum
that has captured you
~~
You are always beneath the sky
though you can think above all the heights
even behind the origin
and following just after

A bit ahead
just before the end of the evening
a distinct dark and a shadow
caught between two stools

I'm moving between the line,
blessing in disguise
stepping forward,
taking the best of both worlds

Shadows have a sound of mist
within the shadows
and the dark has a light
at the bottom on the line of dark

but I caught between two stools
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen
  Dec 2015 Dawn King
Sjr1000
Every morning at 9
She puts on the
banker's disguise
puts her poetry
in a sacred jar
next to the ashes
of
her husband
her dad
her mom.

She's a river of currents
behind the smile
darkly ******
phantasims
fly and flower

She not only carries
the keys to the vaults,
but also
the keys to wisdom
sublime
She can see right through you
when
she wants to
She can read your mind

Smilies
Metaphors
Haikus
Rap
Manifestations
of
all that makes us human,
These are the currents she rides
while
she
files
e-mails
signs
floats loans
defaults
default swaps

The whole time
she's got on
John Prine's illegal smile

She's watching secret movies
inside
she's alive.

It took many years
to learn to hide
the images
the colors
thought dreams
which flow inside -
while in meetings
behind her eyes
flows
the poetry
from herself, she cannot hide.

The commute ends
The day ends
She unscrews the sacred jar
pen to paper
the currency of poetry
resurrected
she comes alive,
All disguises
hide.
For pm, the only banker I know who truly has a heart of gold. We, poets, we have to put on our masks and head to work.
  Dec 2015 Dawn King
DracoTalpus
What rumble grumbles thundering
     beneath another boiling sky,
Which warns me, scorns me,
     distant thorns flee: flashing light from clouds, and I…

Am harkening – darkening towers,
     ivory-cast and sunlit spires lie!
Still distant, though these
     trees are bending, rending, raising arms up high.

Green fingers flailing, leaves travailing,
     one warm-gust, and the blues go grey;

Then silence…
And the wind dies:

Calm

I can feel you coming.

I can taste your spray.

There’s nothing better
     than a thunderstorm;
I love them, and especially
     the way your tempest touches,
And the way your thunder talks to me.


©14Sep10 @DracoTalpus
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