On the I C,
I C,
I C Bergs.

Their splendour
Leaves me
Lost for wergs.

you were seasick
but you don't know
where it came from
or where you feel  
the discomfort
the agony
or the shooting pain

you lose sense of time
and days were taken for granted
the sea monsters
were pulling you down
and the creatures
that only existed
in your mind
broke loose
like pandora's box

they liked walking
on your ribs
and would feel their
curves and edges

tremors and heartaches
continued like how
the trees quivered
and were carried out
by the hurricane

people look at you
as if they've been to
the peak of your
highland mountain
from the base
but only sees
the tip of the iceberg

---

What lies beneath the surface?
All the media hype?
What lies beneath your internet,
your TV and your Skype?

What lies beneath the input
that boggles your wee brain?
What's up with politicians?
The jingoist refrain?

What's up with Miley Virus,
in her fairy leotard
******* bare for all to see...
hoist on her own petard?

Is it all it seems?
A world that's just sick?
Or is it a great metaphor
for a magic trick?

While the Great Houdini
rolls up with a band
you're watching smoke n mirrors
and disregard his hands.

Televangalists preach prosperity!
Filling up the pews,
While you're watching people
going crazy on the news!

What lies beneath Denver?
The Dome of the Rock?
Are there great growing cities?
Or is all of that just talk?

There was once a mighty ship
they thought would never sink...

Folks, what's beneath's an iceberg

and it's CLOSER THAN YOU THINK!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/19/2015

When did you become so cold,
like an iceberg at sea,
You are lost to me,
waiting to collide with an unsuspecting victim,
Your secrets are hidden in the dark deep waters,
never to be seen,
that's the part of you that hit me,
and left me here shivering.

Are you aware
of the music you make, Cricket?
Can the grass be ticklish to your toes?
Tickled like trapped foes.

Toads and toad bumps.
Frogs salted on salted Slugs.
Creamer for the chocolate night,
Are you alive?

Sentimental over fingerprints,
my wings wandered
three centuries ago.
Where they went nobody knows.

Three lights captured in my eye:
one is the bedroom
one is the trumpet
one is the theatre

Hip bones have red suns.
Flowers crawl on skyscrapers.
Barns and bugs with spotted bellies.

Cracked a mirror on my foot,
wish it stayed the evening
and for supper.

Could have gone home
but instead, harvested Winter
in Mexico.

he jumped off Golden Gate
they never saw him again.

cracked his skull on the pavement
the boys kept kicking.

blood spilled everywhere
suicide note too soaked to read.

he arrived to the party in a Ford Escort
he left it in an ambulance.