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5.6k · Mar 2011
and then, I realized
Robert McKinlay Mar 2011
What you could not tell me;
as distinct as a infant's cry,
was why?

Had the torture within you
rattled the bars and forced
you to plead sweet ignorance?

Would you have understood
an alibi, had I delivered it
to you in homonyms?

Were we a pair, had we pared?
Or did one of us bite too harshly
on the pear?

Or would you continue with
me, the way you knew how...
artfully coy, and full of deception?

and then, I realized
I knew... had always known
and therein is the rub
that has left me bare, a bear,
a grizzly discovery.
http://www.robross.ca
3.5k · Nov 2009
French Fries - LAF
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
The delightful sting
of your words hit
my infected scars
with such force
and pain,you feel it too
but could care less,
for you like to think it only goes on
french fries
not me,
am I as good as they
or do I lie?
about me, you,
and then I again?

I may be bitter
as that which
you pour,
but I don't eat away like
your fluid,as I'm content to keep it
bottled
collecting,
forever or until
my walls are gone.

You love vinegar
on everything you eat eh?
so do I really,
but I don't taste very good with it,
Vinegar is what makes me and
yet it is working
to destroy
what was
what is
and what
might have been
a very good french fry.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 1995
2.9k · Nov 2009
Serenity
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
Serenity...
in what was
never "normal"
as normal is a perverse word in "society"
serene perversity is the status quo,
just a serene way of looking at
things with a ****** up face.
It's reality,
not normality.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 1995
2.6k · Sep 2010
Intensity
Robert McKinlay Sep 2010
Burst t t t t
Intensity y y y y
taste
t t t t Burst
y y y y Intensity
taste
eyes lust t t t t
finger pulses s s s s
ingest
t t t t lust eyes
s s s s pulses finger
ingest

breathing
yes
breathing
alive

intense
hold me,
I shiver,
pinch!
harder!

yes
alive
breathing
intense.
http://www.robross.ca
© Robert W.G. Ross 2010
1.9k · Sep 2010
What more?
Robert McKinlay Sep 2010
Shall I open volley,
spike with clenched hand?
Acquiesce to athleticism,
or drop return?

Is there a score?
numbers imply a plan,
encumbered; ******* clad...
jockstraps and leather,
tube socks and man.

****** courts,
exotic terminology,
words of reduction,
redacted, redacted, redacted!
under spells of seduction...

What more?

Who the **** cares.

Piles can be chucked,
and strip smiles, 1 grain at a time,
throw a bone, throw another,
you'll build your own monster.

What more?

redacted, redacted, redacted!
join me down below...
I'll give you history,
it will set everything aglow.

What more?
**** more.

Questions?
redacted; for your own security.

Not Goliath,
not even Iago... wait, that may be whom you cast!
Laughter man, so much laughter,
I grow darker;
a product of your mind; that's just a reminder.

Had I plotted, had I connived,
had I been...
trolling gutters,
sexing the populace,
setting parties to war?
You gave me the part,
and the act was in pantomime...
improbable for paralysis
severed spine,
redacted, redacted, redacted.

You set loose scenarios,
and now I willingly oblige...
I'll take my bow,
and cunning smile.
http://www.robross.ca
© Robert W.G. Ross 2010
1.8k · Nov 2009
In Childhood
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
The ball goes down the lane
it clinks on pins
and down they go,
the shoes fit just right
and everyone you know is in sight,
being taught how to spell the letter R
of your name by your great aunt Vi,
seeing your funny aunt Marlene,
being with your grandma Ross,
and going to Sammy's Restaurant
for grilled cheese,
and the pharmacy for pink Trident gum,
all this under one roof.
I run to the lane
the ball goes down the lane
I run to the counter in time
shut off the lane
and CRASH!
no pins fall
the sound of the ball ricochets
from one end to the other;
my mischievous ways fulfilled,
and God I loved the Fanta pop
which my dad, the manager I was
proud of, readily supplied,
the place is now gone
but it's life still goes on
the pins crash even louder,
the disinfectant shoe spray still as smelly,
the oil of the lane still slippery,
and the grilled cheese still as good;
and carried on to the current day...
Georgina would have been proud!


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 1995
1.8k · Jan 2012
Green Potato
Robert McKinlay Jan 2012
So many eyes lay upon cursing skin
crevices grit, pockmarked with each thrashing intrusion
budding enthusiasm, awash, boiled...
suffer, oh suffer, green potato.

Crinkle cut?  Jib of glut!
manipulate form and function
stain of starch satisfaction...
coffer, oh coffer, oh cough, ahem, cough!
It ain't about money.

That's right, mustn't disturb the soil,
So many eyes lay upon cursing skin
crevices grit, pockmarked with each thrashing intrusion
budding enthusiasm, awash, boiled...
suffer, oh suffer, green potato.

A memory, distant, the taste of that green potato
rots in the kitchen... eat it, enjoy the flavour,
dine on discourse...
digest it,
bury it deep inside,
release it,
let it grow again.
http://www.robross.ca
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
I remove my glasses
and couldn't give a ****
if I ever saw
a thing again,
you ******* *****
ya nice word
civ, ****,
queer boy
Your love is your
insanity, go and go
and go and get away,
away go get away, away
go get away you're
gay, go get away
You don't know
whether to write, talk,
laugh, cry, bawl,
rust and I'm here in this
and I'll be gone on that
Found mad, and for
my madness I cannot
be because I know it's not me,
choke gasp
release and on and
on and on, again go
get away, away
just go away, away
you're gay,and invading the space I haven't even
found.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 1995
1.6k · Nov 2009
Ode to the Garbage Dump
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
I scurry to my hunting grounds
I eat anything, I eat it down
Gorging, hording, enjoyment from toiling,
what is gross is Sustenance from my playground,

I'll piggyback off of you
Here Piggy Piggy
let me have a chew...
I'm charged with saving a life?
it's going to cost you...
I'm no ****,
just a rat for hire...
if you live on scraps
of the vile,
would you be gallant?
Not even for a while.

My dump is a sanctuary,
it will save your life Wilbur...
oink oink oink,
I'm Templeton the rat
the dump is my hero.

(I played the role of Templeton the Rat in a Theatre production of Charlotte's Web in December 2009).
http://www.elgintheatreguild.ca


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert Ross 2009
1.4k · May 2010
Warrior
Robert McKinlay May 2010
The mighty hand of God
pinches the valve in my heart,
blocking blood flow,
causing clots,
His fingers blot out the sun,
and close my mind,
to art and poetry,
His breath and mere mention of his son,
send me in to convulsion,
and I spring forth in revolution!

Garnered force during rest,
attacked at the weakest point of night,
this hand, your hand, coil around like snake,
sheathed in good graces,
appearance transforms to wolf,
dogged teeth reared, mouth foaming,
howling of justice, in a wild froth.
I have no choice but to cast forth the stones,
from bile duct, passed by my good graces.

Now a tired warrior,
I exist as a Devil in disguise,
my war paint faded,
as I'm touched by the longing,
I can understand the plight,
but I can't stand being poked and prodded,
by the Mighty hands that choke,
and they all Know the workings of valve and heart,
as they perpetrate
'His' artful form.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
1.4k · Jun 2010
Swirl
Robert McKinlay Jun 2010
Shrill, elegant scales,
swirl to form the mighty beast.
Fire spectacular, crimson sheen
splayed; a dire circumstance,
flowing around the base.

Attempt to merge within the vision,
the whole shape recoils;
not in fear, but in haste,
for the contents under pressure
would destroy,
a perfunctory account,
of the grandeur that must lay beneath.

Away with form to a single point,
free to contemplate the burden...
reduced to the atom, where I split
and split and split,
and swirl in to the mighty beast.

From the vantage, I show my crest,
my tongue a serpent's, my eyes glow
and cut across time, my wings an ornate fusion;
in this context simply ornamentation,
but none have gotten so close as to reduce to
an atom, and follow to a single point...
so I let out a mighty shrill sound and burn my surroundings...
spent and swirled,
a reduction comes after a sword strike,
a critical blow...
pierced heart.

No Matter, I swirl to a single point.
Lay eyes upon me again,
my metamorphosis shall rise,
and for that blow, I shall unleash new form,
and let forth a deafening call
to my ancestors, for the strength to endure.

I swirl,
and swirl,
and swirl.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
1.4k · Apr 2010
Anguish
Robert McKinlay Apr 2010
Ears echoing droplets
amplified overhead,
seeking attachment to skin,
running down edges,
a soft hum of gadgetry
reminding the soul of how it's spun,
electrically...
as hours toll by tower,
and languished breath
seeps down circular steps;
concrete poured within,
anguish is met by horizon,
unsure whether
night or day,
the bells ...
the bells ...
the bells....
the bells....
the bells....


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
1.4k · Nov 2009
Passion of the Divorce
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
Listening to fragments of a union
bittersweet turns to mold
a rotting corpse of a love so bold
listing, about to go under
a child's cry a gut-wrenching anguish
drowned out,
the cycle now the norm.

A marriage license, up for grabs as a prize,
it's the new reality craze...
but it's the gays,
yes the gays who are to blame,
for a straight divorce rate of more than half!

Stop getting married,
and save us the laugh,
spare the future for children;
for your lack of common sense.

Let's ban divorce,
and send the actors to boot camp...
it should be tough on them, they
make a mockery of commitment
working together
and peace and harmony,
they should repent.

If it's a passion for the Divorce they want,
it's a passion they shall get.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2009
1.4k · Nov 2009
Nexium, the new caviar.
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
Bitter.

Tangy.

Chest poking,
distress...
anxiety.

An orange peeled.

A tomato congealed.

Acid rising,
distress...
anxiety.

laughter.

disaster.

911 on the line,
distress...
anxiety.

Please stay on
until we arrive.

strobing lights.

harrowing ride.

11 hours of machines
distress...
anxiety.

1 year to a MRI.

1 year to live or die?

A Canadian health care story
distress...
anxiety.

Take some of these pills,
and call us in 5 years,
distress...
anxiety.

Quacks.
Waddles.
Going south.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
1.3k · Mar 2011
Evil
Robert McKinlay Mar 2011
You consumed me in your embrace
walls white egg shell
named your price
I stagger to the edge
I heard heart beat
calamity, industrial burst!

Acrid juice, your smile
foul beast, shameful lust;
an unjust feast...
you moaned your piece.

Lips bleed lies,
run down broken face...
those god ****** eyes,
black bags blighting the sky.

Thrashing, Slashing
memories...
giddy laughter,
pure evil,
freedom to smile perfectly,
crunchy shells under foot.
http://www.robross.ca
1.2k · Nov 2010
Child
Robert McKinlay Nov 2010
May the earth wind upon my entrails
envelope soul dashing
rattle ground
fleeting steps
a memory; a lullaby
weeds form a smile
picked heads rub yellow
sneeze white parachutes
galloping freedom
skip ropes!

Skies of popcorn
hail upon back
painful laughter
Zeus cracks cupule
an acorn alone falls
simmering,
stones of ice
shimmer around
naked thought...
those nearest
reflect toll,
a mid summer day
could lay here...
here could stay
a monument
a child.
http://www.robross.ca
1.2k · Jun 2010
Nuclear Pill
Robert McKinlay Jun 2010
The beating heart;
red with confusion.

The computing brain;
fighting an insurrection.

The stomach a saboteur;
setting all parties to war.

Awake, asleep? Stuck in between.

Flight taken on shaky wings,
the coldness rips at flesh;
dripping an abundance of mixed images,
body a shattered mess.

A chair; an exotic destination.
A bottle; a nuclear pill at the ready.
A hand; wishes not to take it.

Wired awake, bring it on you *******!
Quake at the waves of violence.
http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
1.2k · Jul 2010
Statue of Retreat
Robert McKinlay Jul 2010
Light upon the statue of
retreat,
"Get away from me!"
stupid mother,
for I, myself, lie
within a lie
and cards dealt do
fly, I
hesitate to say I wish I could
cry, but
the disgrace would
hit me in the face

Crush the ****** ants
crush them all
roll them over
call it up
ring it back
**** it in
blow it out,
left dead
no longer wandering
about

Leave me this way
with my false laughter,
stagnating mind,
it is true, I try to be kind,
But all for not
I cannot blot,
Make me blind
hurt me
justify my doubled
contempt,
it makes no sense
that at one time
I rhymed
and dreamed





A destructive force
is strong,
A reconstructive force
is too late,
a world of isolation
wouldn't that be great!?

Unable to retreat
for only fools avoid thought
and the universal mind,
without a translator,
is a love me not

In what I say none shall see,
I sting,
I stung,
just like an assimilated ant-bee.

Listen! What do you
see?
See! What do you
hear?
Uncensored, What do you
feel?
Tasteless human hell
Heavenly human smell,
oh...
do tell.

All combined by the link
brake the ****** chain,
disconnect
local bus,
electrical circuit drain:
If a tree falls in the forest... cliche.
If information is lost on the super-highway... cliche.

I refuse
to lose,
now amused,
at the fun-filled mind
so depressed, lifting up all but itself,
just put them on the shelf
free time for yourself

Lyrics to rise:
Curs' ed female
emotional warfare
****' ed males
physical,
unemotional warfare
The battle of a single mind
Destroying the thing we wind
Will we fall behind?
Look backwards,
at the passing of time,
LOOK! AHEAD!
Fix what was wrong...
and live really long

Lyrics to sing to a
retreating statue:
"Come here I care!"
loving mom
For a lie is just a
defense against
closeness,
a decent hand to
hold on to
I wish I could lie
and deny,
but truth always unfolds
don't die

Long live the ants
live long to them all
blow the hate out,
is that what I was
wondering about?

Be By Me
Not Too Close,
Stagnate Laughter
is soon repulsed,
I care, perhaps too much,
for ones unknown and known
my only request:
return the zest,
Return my dreams
or the balance of force

I have retreated in the
solace of universally translated hope;
I solidify and take shape,
running in many directions.
http://www.robross.ca
© Robert W.G. Ross 1995, edited 2010
1.2k · Apr 2011
Sex
Robert McKinlay Apr 2011
***
dead stares
and longing eyes
monotones
and **** lies
virtue swept
beauty poised!
skins bare
body throws...
rapid fashions
repetition
designer popping
ammunition!

smiles for the cameras
an exhibition!
1.2k · Nov 2009
30
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
30
1 Out of the oven
2 Doubled Running
3 Walking Stupid
4 What's a world?
5 Why the difference?
6 Hey look at me!  I'm kinda different.
7 I almost died, not again!
8 Death of a grandmother
9 Girls?  What the hell.
10 He's a nice boyfriend.
11 It's awful lonely.
12 Keep Quiet!
13 Secret having trouble.
14 What to do?
15 Drugs?  Nope.
16  Suicide?  Maybe.
17 **** this ****, and **** all of you.
18 Storm passed.
19 Adult?  Perhaps.
20 Money?  It's a change.
21 A big change.
22 A Storm started
23 Body Mass index probably too high.
24 What could go wrong?
25 Floating on cloud 9
26 So much traveling
27 Body Mass index collapse, Sick
28 Personal life ****** over, a large forgiveness comes out, a Storm ends.
29 Changes all over again.
30 aged in story, eyes on key, alcohol free, who's counting?
31 a return from prison, the UK, an island
32 dropped medication, in favour of honey
33 acted, reacted, back on the meds


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2009
1.1k · Nov 2010
In honour of love
Robert McKinlay Nov 2010
Should the world implode, I will have known love...
from steeped leafs at Starbucks and chocolate,
to *** delivered in an alley,
a seductive dance of connectivity...
all unlikely.

Should the world explode, my love will cover the one I love.
Had I heard the beckoning call of wild,
I surely would not have followed;
my claws extract in special circumstances,
a probability.

Had paths not crossed,
had hell not transpired...
had the earth itself not balanced
on the head of a tack,
I may have missed the best
that life could offer...

so why don't we?
In honour of love...
give in to captivation,
our artistic inclination,
our fascination...

It is the point
you have sharpened...
we stand on precision....
and I can't stop smiling about it...
when whiskers scratch
your beautiful surface.

In honour of you, I bow...
my one, my sheer exceptional.
http://www.robross.ca
1.1k · Nov 2009
Where the Water Lies
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
To depart on a voyage
to take the wheel
to know how you were crafted
to accept such craftsmanship
to perform your task
to act as you really are
to be able to look at yourself from afar
to be so ******* depressed
so bored out of your ******* aching
body of mind
that you find yourself
screaming out
how can you all be so ******* blind!?
Dead in the water, poor riverboat boy
all this fancy *** equipment
and no one to paddle...
yes a paddle!


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 1995
1.1k · Jan 2015
Non-existence after the fact
Robert McKinlay Jan 2015
You were the height of existence
more high than view
a poor man's whimsical consolation
I'll give that to you
and you took
you took
thigh then broke through
you were an ***
face askew

You were the master of nothing
lowly looking far from view
heart beat inaudible; polemic attribution
no want of memory
and you smiled
you smiled
pin what you could
held steadfast

I don't know who you were
I don't know that it was you
I don't recall the sound or when it stopped
I only remember when it restarted
absent a shadow
absent from view.
1.1k · May 2010
I'm deceased
Robert McKinlay May 2010
I'm deceased
my body and sweet decay
the rot setting in,
I still hear the beeping,
a flat line signaling my end.

It was all a poorly sung illusion,
the offbeat melodic rhapsody
a ****** mockery,
a slow sweet tinkering of bells
tolling a harsh lullaby.

The composition meandered for
so long, the songs changed my life,
beautiful textures,
my bones showing,
my love so bountiful, each moment
still-life.

I flicker to passages,
as I'm lowered in to the case,
I see the happy faces,
you see I'm deceased,
I'm not dead...
I'm at peace.

My hair and teeth,
against bleached cartilage,
and that face;
a contemptuous corpse,
fingers pointing inward,
freed heart and soul,
piercing chest,
a cavity...
okay,
he's dead.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
1.0k · Oct 2010
Blue
Robert McKinlay Oct 2010
I can smell blue
when I walk with you
hand-in-hand...
man-to-man.

I can taste blue
of typhoon; drink it down,
double fist'ed...
arms dance euphoric.

I wear mixed blue
shining through window,
burlap and canvas...
mountains, lines, and curves.

I can see blue
perfected by nature
an emotional liquid
splash splash pow.

Doused in blue
Confronting the landscape.
http://www.robross.ca
1.0k · Dec 2010
You
Robert McKinlay Dec 2010
You
I am your corrupt concubine
set forth
a calamitous ***** force
swinging from a hook,
pitched feverish;
a dervish
loathing...
I see what you did!
oh yes, I see what
you did.

My satin is stained with years
of vile semantics,
I see that crooked *** smile...
I cannot translate,
each character, each chastisement,
each year a bitter palate of
'the finest.'

You have distance,
your mounds, and wads...
wallow in them,
a true master of the plan.
http://www.robross.ca
1.0k · Nov 2009
Politics of Sport
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
A manager
A team
A City
A fan
A dream

A league of old men
A collective of the duly elected
A media fixated on the win

A lot of money

Cold, a night in which there is nary a soul
The wood cracks and shatters
on any hit ball...
the visitors come dressed as wolves
cameras film, those there shiver
some nights the ***** would swim in the river
The score 23-2 at that point, why bother?

I'm talking of a body
expensive, unpleasant, obsessed with dreams of grandeur
talking heads with nothing in them
children in uniform, adult bodies
"I deserve money." - the players
"Stats mean nothing, it's all about heart." - a manager
"Come on coach, give him the start." - a father mouths vicariously

I'm talking of the part nobody sees...
"What if you make money?"
expensive, unpleasant, obsessed with policy
certainly not the reception you were expecting
it's just the City.

"Show me the return,
I expect to see,
before I give you anything." - some in the business community.


So many quotes, too many for me, people well meaning
but distant, don't get too comfy, the team had to move
and begin all over, ended with a whimper, a seizure, a flop,
no majesty.

I look over my shoulder at an old man
It was me at age 23
it nearly brought about my end.
I'm just so glad.
This was my dream,
and a great way to spend time with my Dad.
It was 6 years of history, it wasn't all bad.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2009
986 · Mar 2010
Reflux
Robert McKinlay Mar 2010
Pain retribution for agonized youth
somber, a parade with full spread photo shoot,
death narrowly averted, hard to digest...
reflux of memories
revisiting chest,
hardened by rope and rod,
how do I erase this place?
Anxiety still lurks about,
waiting to push up pain;
it is a deep well,
I drill holes in the bucket
every day,
and yet I still get a taste.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
973 · Dec 2010
existence
Robert McKinlay Dec 2010
The light
sound
pop


the light
sound
felt

pop


felt


pop


blanketed by pop

sound

stew


swagger

laughter

heavy beat

pop
felt

the light
the sound

pop

felt

pop
http://www.robross.ca
956 · Aug 2014
Mutual Destruction
Robert McKinlay Aug 2014
Sat upon throne, my naked body
racked of bone
Tin foil crown
kept within forested womb
dressed with silver chill
as you danced and dangled
ministry, my salvation
my doom

False light, flash
I throw down
you take my form
you take my form
you take my form
YOU TAKE MY FORM
I touch that part
I foam
You strike
AXE, ARROW, SPEAR!

Reborn
You grab again
I give you my youth
You just take
smile as you smoke
blackened you smile
the heckle of that look
reminisce at destruction!

Sit amongst papers
no mind for matters
recalling that glorious crown
hold what little
of that time I can
submerged
a tin foil womb
baking that ******* within
I TAKE YOUR FORM
and dance and dangle your salvation
we dance to destruction

We strike the core
I dance like a drunkard
mocking
MOCKING
mocking
I touch that part
mocking
You see that ***?
You strike, I strike
You shoot, I shoot
we know the plot.


Our form, assumed
The dance of being alone
in that form
Only we know the tune
allowed for the beauty
of reality so dark
now a vacuum
the soot travels
whirls within tinged light
history's ghostly whim
******
I sit back down
I touch that spot
MOCKING
MOCKING
I breath, you breath
WE STRIKE

That feeling never far apart.
955 · May 2010
Plum
Robert McKinlay May 2010
There is an originating plum
with tasty flesh, that teeth can't bare to hide,
all are cut in sections,
neatly assembled
ready for the scrum.

Set out on ingestion,
each thought kicked around,
they go in formation,
massive bodies closely bound.

There will be no agreement,
on bitter sweet,
there will only be the score,
we lost, we won,
we loved
the fight!

Tasty is the plum,
as it passed around...

http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
946 · Feb 2011
X - X
Robert McKinlay Feb 2011
On the side splattered twitches
a leg, a face, an ***** displaced
pain not factored for impact!
You drive, drive a bargain.

Step ******* the side splattered twitches
a tap, a crush, a left hook
the bends THE BENDS!
You swerve, swerve in X's.

Fall gently on the side splattered twitches
a mixture, a beverage, a brook
swimming swimming!
You dive, dive right in.
http://www.robross.ca
935 · Nov 2011
Rabid
Robert McKinlay Nov 2011
If there were, I'd be there
spread amongst bread crumbs...
knifing butter
smearing will,
watching the bag close,
sealed with a date...

If there were, I'd be there
rebuilding faith amongst the masses...
chanting profanity;
a sincere smile,
watching the procession,
opened with a kiss skyward...

If there were, I'd be there
leading with a howl...
eating the body
in fancy fur,
ever lusting.
927 · Apr 2011
I'm your pumpkin
Robert McKinlay Apr 2011
orange vibrant verse
coursing underlying beat
reluctant surface
timid movement,
gaining feet!
voices echoing
a shout!
freedom to box,
carving face
a light within
projecting
wicked
wicked
wick...
spark!
Remember my face?
887 · Jul 2010
Porcelain God
Robert McKinlay Jul 2010
Bloated; by the sound of plummet.
Staggering to the summit,
confused by the crossed wires
and wooden stakes that have conjured
REVOLUTION!

Released; pressured by the guards.
A rat fleeing rising water, feasting upon shards,
acutely aware of the maze
and artificial structures that have comforted
REVULSION!

Toiled; to regain cognition.
Pelting the bowl with ammunition,
body quivers with dew
for this reality is inherited (apparently)
EXPLOSION!
http://www.robross.ca
© Robert W.G. Ross 2010
875 · Nov 2010
1 2 3
Robert McKinlay Nov 2010
Set upon a mornin' rush
my fingers tired
eyebrows crushed

burrowed, borrowed
time to dash
time to crash,
to hell with cash...

I run. I run.
everlasting,
my copper top
a blast.

It's cold! You rapscallion!
artificial heat
beats my feet,
I slow, Yes, I slow...

my fingers tire
my eyes in tow...
http://www.robross.ca
855 · Sep 2013
Turning Rapidly Dive
Robert McKinlay Sep 2013
Could it be written, thoughts...
for silence cut in the shape of wings?
That fluttered, stuttered;
*****/flops
muttered.

There was always an air of calm
within jets,
a gentle violence, general states
no lines, no connections;
dictation, broken breast,
affliction.

Each day a trial;
The Great Tribulation!
wings cut through silence...
shape remains;
earned defiance!

To battle, fly.
850 · Aug 2013
Beautiful Monster
Robert McKinlay Aug 2013
I was wrong

The instrument I was playing
it wasn't out of tune

I thought it was something else

as I played offbeat notes
it revealed a beautiful monster

I was wrong

I thought it was something else

It glowed with spectral feelings
opening valves that should have been closed
so many facets to this being
I'm enhanced

I was wrong

I thought it was something else

I gave it air, I gave it my hands, I gave it my face...
I thought you were someone else
Who was I to be wrong?
Haven't I been playing you all along?

I was glad to meet you
I was sure you were someone else

Together, my beautiful monster,
I'll make you real,
glad you're here,
this was a perfect tune for us...
somber, majestic, synthetic,
microbial, pungent, diabolic,
colossal, all very near...
fixated on an elevated platform
we're lit like an attraction,
we're joined for all to see.

A beautiful monster,
I was wrong,
won't you accept?
Apologies.
I thought you were someone else.

We don't know how to play the song...
bold melancholy flows
tinged with mercy
sedated urgency;
I was wrong
departed we fall silent,
no longer recognize my face,
we both hear a tune lingering
no idea where it came from...

won't you accept?
you're someone else.
845 · Aug 2013
Yes, form and function
Robert McKinlay Aug 2013
Here the body
remains.

Multi-strobe hitting beats
teeth in dark light,
deep bass.

Growing an insurgent
emergent blasting howl
tingling ecstasy.

Where is it from?
Where has it come?
Colour frothing
swirling, hanging bodies,
hand in hand...
bounce and jam.

Here the body remains.
Glued.
Movement,
stretch...
reaching pinnacles...
form and function
yes...
frozen
beasts
alive.
832 · Jan 2011
Run Run Run
Robert McKinlay Jan 2011
The room dark, as I see images pass by
my mind active, I try to ignore...
wealth not clarity,
health a disparity...
an existence started;
invited to beauty.

I don't always have something to say,
learnin' that's okay,
I smile now and think more...
I got so much to adore.

I can be literal,
a fool;
impute magical powers to my being...
and I smile,
and it cracks smooth lines...
a delightful guffaw.

An introduction to me!
Run Run Run,
that little boy...
http://www.robross.ca
832 · Nov 2009
Yellow
Robert McKinlay Nov 2009
What I see is
nothing

What I want is
hiding

What I know,
I don't.

And nobody recalls
anything...

What I feel
is unfelt

What I want is
heart sent

What I hope is
bent.

How I care is
up for rent.
Cheap
*******
Get out!


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 1995
823 · Sep 2015
The happy march
Robert McKinlay Sep 2015
Recollections of you
rotted flesh flashed
smirked smoke
no mirrors amplify
pyre rise high
a match
ready to strike
trumpets gallantly play
naked through the street
live in guttural
flee the walking man
humbled by
a single flame
ash spread
acrid burn
primed for war paint
blackened walls
waged a slave
plagued inert.
809 · Mar 2011
Yes Commander
Robert McKinlay Mar 2011
Let us cut to the chase
where you drove love erratic
your cut smile
on that day I knew,
I must leave.
It wasn't raining,
weather was beautiful!
Not at all like a movie,
though a grand score must have been playing.

You said your last true words to me,
from behind your insane sneer...
I could not have an ounce, nor inch,
I could not breathe as
you ******
the last of my essence.

I could have smashed every thing we were,
now relegated to nightmares, and how I hold
you to account for them nightly.
You created this, and perhaps one day I will
forgive the torment, but as I relive it,
you will face justice... guaranteed.

Yes Commander,
I relieved you of duty...
I never asked for whip, nor lash of your fork tongue.
No, I asked for love. No, I don't require *******.
You taught me how to say No, and in your case,
**NO MORE!
http://www.robross.ca
807 · Apr 2010
The windows
Robert McKinlay Apr 2010
Entry to a blasted land
from whence it came
from whence it stands

The windows framed
a landscape bland
a landscape grand

Strewn are the artful plans
blackened blight
blackened light

The windows strange
panes in tact
pained with spite.

Shreds of civility
ghostly mastered
ghastly sight.

The windows
centered in disaster,
presented in gallery,
dusted in delight,
veiled in mystery.

www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
801 · Apr 2010
Bits
Robert McKinlay Apr 2010
Springing forth from slumbered quest
a smile adorned by vapid breath.

Elephants give rise to thunderous steps
a cry, some calamity, then more rest.

Bits have changed, good will blessed,
shards of self collected, an inspired mess.

Pieces went missing, when the hammer dropped
but there he is, standing ... looking back up.

His fashion changed, face perked up,
the meaning clarified, was this good luck?

Chipped and cracked, dazzling flare
light rebounded... as light as air.

The bits hit by roaming bands,
illuminating through time, permanence arcane.

Fruition came to pass,
a soldier, a real trooper, regained dignity.

As bit by bit, the pieces fit,
and were joined by shards of the land.

www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
Robert McKinlay Apr 2010
I see their eyes
yeah, I see them
there they are
large, gray
a wide array of expression

I feel nothing in them
they see me
and I'm looking right at them
it wasn't meant to feel this way

I'm impressed by the feeling
chilled by the perception
a ghoulish laughter
my only confession

I see their eyes
a million daggers,
confused they throw them my way
I catch them, a cut up collection
it wasn't meant to feel this way

Wandering through the weeds
a landscape free from presence,
life choked with a sullen glaze,
are they still looking at me?
The sky of haze.

I'm slowing the spin
read slowly,
I'm slowing the spin
repeated slowly,
it wasn't meant to feel this way.

I walk away from the Supreme Beings,
in what direction?

they know something,

it wasn't meant to feel this way...


www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
Robert McKinlay Apr 2010
I imagine life with wings
flying through crisp currents
feathers pruned neatly
a world beneath my shadows.

I imagine life from the trees
swinging through depleted canopy
beating chest in frustration
a face of humanity turned wild and cold.

I imagine life in the oceans
extracting oxygen from the depths
blasting the surface with great bursts
my song traveling vast distances.

I imagine life snaking the deserts
burrowing for protection from predator and sun
searing pain from the vestige of limb
all part of the natural plan.

I imagine the Earth from beyond
a shining jewel, polished by debris
exporting our imprint by stamp
sealed with approval,
delivered by scope.

I imagine looking back at an affected world,
alien and foreign, hope for diplomatic relations
logic and reason, replaced by treason
as minds were affected
corroded to core,
a shining jewel no more,
the blast not heard,
another tree fell,
a capsule launched
with seed and tears...
caught by passage of time,
an evolution takes over,
who shall be the next to record?

http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
785 · May 2010
Smiling
Robert McKinlay May 2010
Tickled pink by your suggestion,
the way you speak,
crisply; wires crossing.

Sensations creep from ground,
roots grapple with personality;
always smiling.

I think of you softly,
I think of you hardly,
I think of you smiling,
I think of you crying.

Weeping like a willow,
I'm growing,
I send down the lines of engagement,
you swing from my branches...
hurling to and fro...
both smiling...
both laughing...

let these be the memories,
that seed the future...

let these be the memories,
that allow us to grow.


http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
779 · Sep 2010
Who am I?
Robert McKinlay Sep 2010
A man sits on a chair, centered to those around,
aware of them, glancing briefly waiting.
He developed a taste, this bag however only teased
his receptors, and gave more burn than ease.
******* is a fine art, to which is paid a king's ransom;
the shaft, though Godly, was not bound for glory...
how he wanted!

There was an exchange of stories, striking similarities;
he had been joined by others, relocated, and told to start over.
Mystics popped the cap, dismissing gender...
how they wanted!

A man sat in a bar;
no knowledge of modern era,
ceiling had tired tiles, a friend sang
to a new lover, and
two in love danced to karaoke,
in sync to their drunken state,
how he loved her!

The party was lavish;
gay youth empowered,
a welcome meat market of pulsing power,
a man sat on the couch...
watching, two ladies necked beside him,
together they danced to sultry tones,
eyes scanning, heads turned, smiles,
how he wanted.
http://www.robross.ca
© Robert W.G. Ross 2010
779 · May 2010
2:15 AM, May 4, 2010
Robert McKinlay May 2010
At this late hour
contemplating a deliberate plan
eyes work through fatigue,
as crows feet grow,
legs stationary
mind having left the soul,
resenting the direction
retracing the flow...
quieted along the path,
faulted lines show
a moderate to large scale
fracture,
and underlying swell.

It is a life traveled,
marveled by eagle eyed sight,
no damage to the structure,
shifted to the right.

Collapsing splinters jot new landscapes,
laid to waste, by beauty of worded brush,
yielded as sword, to the ground with ******,
painted collections line broken walls.

Shall the brush be to conquer?
Or a natural force, under command?
Contemplating the deliberate plan,
so divided, alone,
the degrees of force,
unwieldy; wholesale destruction,
too much for one man...
the canvas awaits the final blow.

http://www.robross.ca
(c) Robert W.G. Ross 2010
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