"aviary" poems
in a taut black dress
you brush by me
you are
dark summer fruit simmering hot
a sopping estuary
i gather you into me
you cascade like an undulating cat
giggles like trembling gelatin
cherry kiss lips
agile muscle shifting
pleating like soft furs
against my thunderous chest
your tremulous tongue rupturing
like spiced chrysanthemums from heaven
i inhale your lavender breath
your saliva melts stormy mouth up-leaping
i eat your soul
and paradise ********
licking honey rainbows
filling my mouth a thousand times
and a thousand more
its never enough when some one has your heart
suffocate me in your drooling mouth
your body is my aviary
and hot house of man eating plants
i run to your teeth
beautiful cleavers gleaming
shivering with excitement
from your dragging bites
my blood languishing at your feet
have no regard for me
eat my love
i live to be swallowed by you
i hold you through the night
all dire raptures
dark in mystic paradise
tangled in your hair
may mourning never find us
torrid scorched from flames infernal
black candles uncrossing pasts
devils **** your adoring toy
kisses never ceasing
hot weather nostrils steaming
your flexed body writhes
a royal contortion
your heart cleaving
so that i may like a sun
consume your darkest edges
bitter chocolate so sweet
to fill griefs mouth with ecstasy
my heart aches like a siren of echoes
calling to you
shaking your gates down
you are a titanic gravity
and i'm forever tumbling
like eternal burning ashes through cobalt night
it is a steep decent into heavens arms
as i crumble
all smashing diamonds
and hissing flames
into open wounds weeping glitter
your chin jutting
throat stretched
while pulling the roots of your hair
exposing arteries pulsing
stuffing myself on your marrow
you plume like a volcanic moon
showering me with spooling stars
and butter **** kisses
ill turn you into my glistening little *****
all swollen tears for more
rituals of adoration
kisses like monsoon rains
i look up at your supple form
your haunches my temple
worshiping you
smothered in heavens jaws
you cascading pantie-less
in a taut black dress
Aug 22, 2017
Aug 22, 2017 at 1:36 PM UTC
****** bone feathers and yellow beak imbedded in brain
exposed an aviary corpse when the burial dust settled
the last Dodo fell with eighty eight avocado trees cut
down that day and they fell like tipped cows slow
slow fast thud dirt sprayed like winter breath
but before trees tumbled and avocados
rolled downhill north sawteeth
scratched bark and cut
at one hundred fifty
degree angles
and wedges
pried tree
trunks
while the last Dodo slept in the last inhabited Dodo nest
like the last of a long genealogy abhorring what was left
of a final family
a weak decrepit Jones or Smith
tumbles down stairs
of a two story home
in Maine.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:27 PM UTC
Crystal chandeliers
shelter an aviary restaurant
just beyond our patio.
A pair of purple finches,
having heard the place well-chirped,
drop in for a hasty lunch
and flit away full and fortified.
A cardinal taxies in to sample
the black oil sunflower seeds,
then revs his engines for the flight
to a chilled Magnolia branch -
scattering snow tufts as he lands.
Birds of every kin and feather
spread the word from branch to tree
that you just can't beat the tasty fare
at the little wire and glass café
beneath the crystal chandeliers.
February, 2011
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
My shouts share whispers with the clouds above but fall on deaf ears here.
I cannot hear beyond the roaring wind.
I am eager to meet my end as are all the rest.
I hold such splendid moments in my chest as the earth's tilt shifts beneath me.
My pace has quickened it cannot further. The plot has thickened with mine own ******
An aviary vision reduced to a glance.
One last moment, one last chance.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
Despite the right to spite the far away
Of only what I know is nothing as a word
Only what I know is everything as a meaning
******** **** in this early morn
******** love of that metal music
ENOUGH OF THIS (will make you crazy)
Heterosinea contractual echinacea of aviary actual sack attack
ATTACKING SACK INSIDE A RACK O' FLACK
FLACK BOMbardment of horse willed ensnarement
Wiley wicker writhing in illness
Loose found youtube through fool rude nudes
Useful contraptions trap attraction for creative adoration and many more "things"
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
On a steamy island sprayed in melodic days.
Dancing in rhythm as the porpoise play.
Some hymn and some pray enchanting ways,
in the swim and sway of the melody of day.
Languishing in canopy of young vines rope,
as passionate couples intertwine at *****
below the emerald silence of mountain slope,
heed the joyful herald of fountains of hope.
As cool and winding shady green rivers distill,
hear the tropic's aviary song, sweetest minstrel,
thrashing and dancing in seas azure blue crystal,
as the softly salted winds conjure in Ol' Mistral.
Drift away drinks of colored Caribbean ice,
air scented of cinnamon, mango and spice,
as we hymn and we pray enchanting ways,
in the swim and sway of the melody of day.
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
i just love canaries with there yellow plume
with there lovely song lifting up the gloom
jumping perch to perch in there aviary
always very active full of energy.
they are so delightful wonderful to see
always full of joy as happy as can be
they are only small with feathers very bright
this yellow bunch of joy brings me such delight
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
Can you feel the winds blowing?
Can you feel the moon pull the tides?
No,
No I really can’t.
I walk down a dirt path through a certain wood, alone,
Wearing courage…and folly, for the Laestryogons
Are of another land, far from here, where Pythos slithers,
But that’s of another matter, another matter completely.
Regardless, recant and reiterate [here you must leave all wariness
Behind, all trace of cowardice must be extinguished.]
Well I relinquish my stronghold over to the others.
It may be insidious to some but I must ask,
Why the stripes, why the stripes?
They did not unify all different types.
The apple is useless after it ripes.
I think I’ll sit and drink tea till the sun sets, and repeat.
And when I’m stretched out, stretched out thin
I will sit and gaze and grin,
At a passing cloud, a squirrel, a tree,
At the warbling from the aviary.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 11:17 PM UTC
Funny,
Sad,
Ugly,
Dark,
Evil,
Deep,
Wise,
Idle,
Mischievous,
Expressed in ones and oughts,
Identions into my mind and life,
An aviary of my erratic thoughts.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 3:18 AM UTC
Abjure the bones broken in,
The first lift frissoned by
The moving trees slain on the shift,
Rivers and risen flowers cut,
My statuary lurches betide
The nap of bent wing saluting.
My aviary is a fluttering bed,
The scattered head REMs my flight,
My feet in cloud extend for landings
Tings the belled bound legging.
My falconer bows with pride
In the stall bent wings stooping.
My clawed creature glides for only
The pitching sun or shining moon
And my flights execution, the hooded
Head, end trails my falconer.
My days, fowl to the lunar kite,
Assail the winds open wound.
Jul 12, 2012
Jul 12, 2012 at 8:50 PM UTC
I was a teacher once.
My students seemed
like glittering
fantastical birds.
The girls flew and flashed
in their keen new beauty,
the boys perched sullenly
and stiff as boys seem
always wont to do.
I was a teacher observing
the flittering
ephemera of youth,
that one thing
we all remember
always
though it only
stays a little
before it is driven
by worry and the world
into memory
and flies away
into forever.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 7:48 AM UTC
Winston was a dog
who bullied his canary
He’d often bury eaten birds
behind the old shed on the prairie
Till the day he chocked on a bone
coughing up an aviary
then sadly came the angry crows
pecked his arterial pulmonary
I know its mad
and may sound just a little crazy
but that’s what is trending
and now tweeting at #dogsobituary
Dec 2, 2021
Dec 2, 2021 at 8:20 PM UTC
Stripped down, stripped
bare handlebars on coldest ride
into the wind and shouts loud
discouraging and dissonant
whipping faces clean with
enticed tears and red noses
pedaling harder
into the fog
Pin down butterfly wings
on frozen dissection table
and claim aviary consent
by the beating of its wings
in specific, modern rhythm
Let's all don masks
of ****** beetroot red
and live our lives like lab rats
locked in dingy basements
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
The hat did not make the boy
they even wanted to select their prefered neighbours.
The dusty unused courtyard
long buried prayer books loitered.
If there was a God he was already made
in their own image,
insular and grunt.
To surrender to their leaden aviary
the cage wouldn't need bars,
archaism would ablute the soul
the world outsiders
a plank walkway the only means.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
The most glorious plateau
With spectacle like no other
Reminisce from above
Because of My Love
A trolley for you Darling
To slide over the world
Witness things you cannot speak of
Because of My Love
An aviary of gold
To keep the fowl from the flood
Letter me with a Dove
Because of my love
Letter me thereof
With this bittersweet love
Nov 22, 2010
Nov 22, 2010 at 7:58 AM UTC
Abjure the bones broken in,
The first lift frissoned by
The moving trees slain on the shift,
Rivers and risen flowers cut,
My statuary lurches betide
The nap of bent wing saluting.
My aviary is a fluttering bed,
The scattered head REMs my flight,
My feet in cloud extend for landings
Tings the belled bound legging.
My falconer bows with pride
In the stall bent wings stooping.
My clawed creature glides for only
The pitching sun or shining moon
And my flights execution, the hooded
Head, end trails my falconer.
My days, fowl to the lunar kite,
Assail the winds open wound.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
You think
I am a hen
In god's house
There for the plucking
Oh honey
How foolish you are
To think it'd be so easy
To get close to me
My feathers are gold and ivory
And my beak deadly
Moving with pigeon toes
You stumble and trip
You thought this dance
Would be swift
But this is ballet
And you are not my Siegfried
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 2:29 AM UTC
The influx of emotions
and their ebb
and flow
swirl like a cyclone within me
I stand upon the cliffs,
hair blowing
mind rolling
into nuances
and languages
existing beyond words
as each feeling whirls
and melts
into the other
until they rise like birds
Around me,
each one takes the stance
of a miniature kite
attached to my limbs
pulling me this way
and that
Yes, I know that our emotions
are as rivers,
rushing through
our banks
soaking the essence
of our beings
with fresh coolness
and alternately,
where it meets sea,
brine in searing tears
I know the stillness of my
own soul, placid as a
rock in a typoon
yet sometimes
unable to shake off
the heaviness of algae
it can almost suffocate
and to get through its
dank seaweed density
I shall just envision lightness
in the aviary form
of hummingbirds
or kingfishers…yes, even soaring eagles
tugging on my heartstrings
lifting me up and away
into the proverbial clouds
so I can just
curl up
into fetal position
and let myself be
gently rocked
until the storm
blows over
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
The eyes are a pair of globular organs of sight in the head of humans and vertebrate animals
Or are the eyes the window to the conscious soul?
They call me the Devil’s Advocate
Traditionally on the left side of your shoulder, purring that dead angels lie too
The lost pulse has been cause to abacinate
The light is blinding but you descry right through its laments, where the fleeting hope sings a tune that quavers as classical
The light is blinding but so is the crepuscular, encapsulated in a vessel of defeatism, powerless to shift my sole.
Your shut asymmetrical globes are created boundless by all existing matter that make them a home.
A Molotov cocktail in the shape of a hollow ***** reminiscent of wartimes and tearing without the gas
I choke on the smoke rings of the lit wick and I’m reminded that I hate going in circles and around
But they are also vessels of protection, a place for kumbaya’s around the fire where time is used to back-track
The deepest longings and recollection in my Purple Heart cannot be explained by how it beats 115,000 times each day
To hell with the sorry excuses and fleeting ideas of the Beaujolais
The soul is the spiritual or immaterial part of a human being or animal, regarded as immortal.
Let your spirit descend into you again, fill your body like the dripping of Adam’s Ale from broken pipes
Yes, they are cracked, but your chest is not a bird’s nest in December
They are reminiscent of, but are not the promises your teenage self-made to your mother, saying, “I’ll be home by eight”.
Press your hands to the aviary your beating heart has been trying to escape, touch it softly, and this will be the first time in years you've been kind to the keeper of the grey
Glaze into the looking glass and hold your fists back, let go of the sharpness of your words and risk forgetting yourself
End the match that pinpricked the flame of hatred, and bleed out the blue and black of yesterday.
They call me the Devil’s Advocate,
You hang from the trees, but I don’t believe in gravity.
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
Couldn't find her in the States
US or those I was in
From Maine up to Mania
From Hypo down to Sin
I scoured the Vol State
She wasn't even there
Remember the one I spoke of
I was choking on her hair
So I tramped out to Texas
Sandbags were all I found
Drove up to Collyrado
Crusted Butte, Drunk Unsound
The wrong color Orange caught me
Where the Gators turn blue
Didn't make No ****** sense
So I left abused without truth
Up to recovery
From the Damage that I've done
I lost my fears in Knoxville
Even though I still have some
Couldn't find her in the Ivy League
Nor at Oxford, UK
Caught my Baby down in Nashville
She has the Stones to Swing away
Pyreneaic granite told me
That French was the Langue
Even though I speak Spanish and Italian
I think I've found the true Romantic tongue
**** what a woman
What a spirit indeed
I'm gonna shed my last coat
Forever cause she's my Queen
I found my higher power
Linguistics it used to be
I might drop off this continent
Because Saving's what I need
Chirping like a som'bitch
Is that Aviary Queen
of my globe/world/universe
My Archaeoloverix, Baby
Kisses Hugs Baby Bird
i can hear her coo at me
I'm gonna quit my scribbling
And call her heart to me
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
If you have to choose
between an aviary
of my thoughts
or an abattoir
of my emotions,
please do choose me
so that you can get
the whole of
everything!
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
An auspicious Australian awaits a antique apperature. Alive and awestruck he answers an abnormal anomaly. The apperature abscesses an automaton and away an albatross alights to an aviary awakening an awesome antihero. The aura of amazing allegory alleviates any alarm. As the Australian is an abhorred analytical analogy.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
my chest is an aviary,
hundreds of caged birds
flutter and shudder and whistle
soft songs and incomprehensible words.
my ribs as bars,
and my heart as feed,
and the birds all hum,
and we all have needs,
including birds, including me,
digging my hands, into my chest,
they peck at me, my insides,
to rip me open, we try our bests--
i scream and writhe and cry and whine--
i tear and pull and carve and break--
they sing and sing and sing and sing--
half-gored, i give in, stop, shake--
an albatross in my chest cavity,
the canaries' screaming pitch remains,
the robins and bluejays and wrens and larks,
all choir my unending pain.
i want to be free of them,
and them, of me,
but my ribs are bars, and my heart is feed,
and in my chest they will always be.
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 12:17 PM UTC
Abjure the bones broken in,
The first lift frissoned by
The moving trees slain on the shift,
Rivers and risen flowers cut,
My statuary lurches betide
The nap of bent wing saluting.
My aviary is a fluttering bed,
The scattered head REMs my flight,
My feet in cloud extend for landings
Tings the belled bound legging.
My falconer bows with pride
In the stall bent wings stooping.
My clawed creature glides for only
The pitching sun or shining moon
And my flights execution, the hooded
Head, end trails my falconer.
My days, fowl to the lunar kite,
Assail the winds open wound.
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 7:51 PM UTC