The edge of my soul is unsilenced
by the youthful glove of lust
Curtained wonders and curtailed tales
our songs recited and memorised on saddles
Sandals of certainty , candled yester years

My soles dared to tear a form
eyes roar in beats of a sinful stare
affixed sensations, the aesthetic nightmares
the cyclic eventful roller coaster of want
The padded faded jeans and cotton shirt

A fluent code of the cold wonderland
steers protons and affluent electrical neurons
Exploding zips, complementary zest
The **** ride on your stationed rod
My stallion, a rash, an adrenaline rush, our flight (oh la la)

At the sight of the afterglow stormy taste
our echoes astound the mountain tops
a wave of the heated dream in a cage
The aged flow of the surfacing rivers
As these words live in my mind

Flickering lights inside the synagogue maze
the cleavage fountain evaporating fumes
A showcase of undeniable holes and poles
A glorified truth tied in elastic hearts
Eclipsed as a shadowy armoured reflection

Hold my hand and fly the transient transcendence
Balance as I fall behind on the heighted prolific lines
Rehouse my day on these whispered thoughts
Time circles, time travels, time lost, time found
On this hour of attachment, catch me as I wave

When I  have a Friday night...
When I have $57 to last me until late July...
When I have holes or stains in all my clothes... When I am more a burden, than not...
When I have a smile even though I'm lonely...
When I have lost my friends because I'm not convenient…
When I work myself sick for a $2 trip...
When I finally can't possibly give even just one more hand...

I dig
You dig
We dig
He dig
She dig
They did

Your heart has holes
From the knives of past
Stabbed in maliciousness
Punctures that remain
Help in compassion
Trust in loyalty
Bonded in pain
All the good sent your way
seeps out of the holes in your heart
Nothing can ever stay

© Jl 2016

Away from hills and away from mills,
Comes a child with no two eyes.
With its tiny hands blue and small mouth bled,
"There really can be no hope," they said.

It cries out loud, pulling at its rags
Carrying naught but stones and bones.
Throwing them with vigour (aiming at none!),
With its two eye sockets blind and dull.

But no people are there.

Naught but ghosts from antique towns
Resonating through the echoes of sand and crowns,
Shouting and laughing
Feeling not the stones,
Pretend to fall dead
As they chirp, chant, and dance.

~

As the memories distort,
A presence emanates from dust of broken mauls
Burying the ghosts in golden holes:
On beds of hard, cold, and mouldy bones
Whilst bestowing the child with eyes of ghost desert rose.

Her eyes were made of stars,
And yours, a black hole.
Whenever she looks at you
She sees her own death.

There's still an empty space
          where there should be a heart
From all the words you used,
                 hoping to tear me apart
There's still a giant ****
           in the back of my spine
From the knife you stabbed
        while looking in my eyes
There's still all these holes
                      in my chest
From the shotgun trigger pulling
              when you left