In the meanest time of summer
when the sun cracks the pavement
and swelter fills your lungs
a call to the dispossessed is in order.
Consider the river washers,
and the alley dwellers
who are simply thankful for today.
Chew on a bitter piece of perspective
and ask yourself;
if you had to carry a cross to your own death
would you complain about the heat?
Bring me your fear and your failures,
I’ll wrap them in coarse linen
and hide them under the bed.
Bring me your insanity,
I’ll trap it in a cage and drown it in the river.
Bring me your nightmares
I’ll douse them in kerosene and build a bonfire
for you and I
We can warm ourselves by the flames
Imbued by the light of the sunset
and the rustle of dry of paper.
I couldn't begin to repair
His broken wing.
Born of the bluest of blue skies
Soaked in kerosene, sitting on tinder
his intentions have fallen
to a blanket, fettered with
pine bark, rotting leaves,
rich soil and dark magic.
His tiny heart, as small as a poppy
seed beats faster than a drum
His tiny form yearns to catch the breeze
to the nectar of the next Trumpet Creeper.
Your luscious, languid, lips
Feather down my torso.
My pride awaits your touch
And your power to release
My explosive love for you.
Over river Seine.
Blue buildings silhouette
Cast behind. I could almost cross
Over and smell the cafes
If only it wasn’t
Smoke and butyl nitrate
burn the membrane of your nostrils.
Unzipped trousers down
the crush of leather at your feet
spilling your anger and your desire
on the stranger knelt before you
trying hard to remember to forget all of this.
Reveling in the conquest
while feeling strangely unsatisfied.
Firm, ripe, temptation red,
the pale green-yellow flesh
floods my mouth
with Sweet juice and the sting of tartness
like a gift from a serpent
I know I should be ashamed
but I have been bitten.