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Zero Nine  Mar 2017
Sebastien
Zero Nine Mar 2017
One. Two.

Is this thing turned on?

One. Two.
resonance

I can't see even a few feet in front of me.

God?
resonance

Anyone?
resonance

There's nothing said back from the void.
Disapproval. Deification.

What difference does it make,
Whether withheld or spoken?

Shadows show well on the walls
Before Netflix in my home at night,

The futon
resonance

Eyes overflowing with lust
They're waiting for ****** on tongue.
Cody Edwards Feb 2010
Part One: Wolves and Chokes

Children are such wolves.
A day is a fledgling lamb
That can be crowded, cloistered
And clawed.
I used to speak to you and
Run with you.
You in your red coat

And I with my white throat.
Suspect nothing.
No tooth was fear to me
For a pack does not stack
Its white edges against itself.
Yet still I must have itched
A miracle of irritation
That cannot be ignored.
In the night, my mouth
Is drawn wide.
Like a fetus, I am transparent
And cringing in black situ.
Then a bite, and then a bite.
Then you see what is inside.

A one I love the best of all
Is loath to see me live.
The bitter taste of childhood vow
Comprises all I give.

I’ve broken you, you say.
With a box of fools I never sought,
Always galumphing back to me.

You broke me first, I think.
What posturing, straighten that halo
That chokes me rightfully.

Of course there is no way
To seek out your paradise.
Not if sinners cannot speak.

Part Two: Sebastien

Your hysteria is a fine rope.
My tree stands ready at the dawn,
A line of men and my
Brick wall that chips and splits
When bodies fall.

Even the sun is watching.
No one swats the stinging gaze
Away and no one dares offend.
But I stand.
I shall try to be as salt.

Salt stands even as dust.
Salt sneers at wounds.
Salt loves only the earth.
And the earth will love me soon,
Championing me as her lover
Which is an irony too ghastly to feel.

Rain in the still air, in the sun.
Silence that grinds a heel onto wrists
That steals from me.
A second, then a heartstring.
Thousand and thousands.
Eyes and minutes.

A billion is still only a tenth.
Release.
It is the boundlessness of the sky
And a chorus stabs their shovels,
Stabs the vein with silver mirth.

god touches me.
I am touched by gods.
I am born
And slain by daylight’s pink
Hands.

Every iron finger
Every one a steely tongue
Every cut a golden affair
And the spurns too hot to hold.
I fall and fold and dim.

My hour is burnt
And still your eyes, your teeth
Go with me
To forge both of my decades with
A gilt life of ecstasy I never
Touched but saw.

I saw it in the face of god.
And heard it as a note
That echoed through the days I lived,
And every word I wrote.
© Cody Edwards 2010
A Thomas Hawkins  May 2010
Music
A Thomas Hawkins May 2010
Musically speaking
I'm just a single note
one of many squiggles
Johann Sebastien wrote

A note alone makes not a tune
A letter not a word
As part of some sweet melody
is where I should be heard

So put me with my brothers
arranged across the staff
A thing of beauty I become
Thanks to my masters craft
©A Thomas Hawkins 2010
http://poetryinprogress.com

The Community Poetry Project
The creation of a handwritten poetry compilation featuring poems from poets around the world. For full details visit http://cheaperthantherapy.net
Ryan O'Leary May 2019
I'm gone Bach to decompose
what took me a lifetime to
orchestrate ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~




Johan Sebastien Return
1685 – 1750

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