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Shofi Ahmed Jan 2020
(0)
Fly perfectly straight and high, and show the fly
out of the fly-bottle on your way.
Rise to victory, far above the blue sky,
and reap the reward: the opening of paradise!

The road ahead is clear and open this way,
with things small and big growing and disappearing up this way.
You will see sunrises and sunsets waxing and waning,
with mention of the moon and stars in the dark.
Be mindful as you sway, it's got to be laser-sharp.
There is no hard shoulder on this highway,
miss it by an inch and risk losing everything forever!

There is hope, there is light up high
pick up your paintbrush, just like the sun does
goodness knows how it sneaks in, right in the black
canvas of the night, painting the first light
lo, it shows up in heaven, the candle of the daylight.

As long as there is a man and a woman,
never give up, our canary bird can fly
rosy or not, the nest in every morn nets a sunrise!

(1)
A woman indeed plucks up the courage
she never had to look up to the stars
be it for the guide or the light in the night.
Fathima herself was the full Moon every night
is thanks to her Godsent innate light.

With it, she can bask in the full spread of the pi
on top of its short decimals mounting high
constantly as if countless stars in the sky.

The time and space under the sun
and that under Fathima's light
are far apart from each other
yet they coexist side by side.

As she points out,
"A circle is masculine
while pi is feminine."

Pi forms the circle with fine prints,
decimal dots continue to spring,
sprawling trillions of new digits,
the bandwagon is still increasing.
Connecting the dots is an untouched dream.

The full moon pi picture is veiled,
unseen at large, yet in short, 3.145 it can live!

(2)
Fathima flies her lock of hair
in the lurking air of the transcended pi
the primitive feminine does that,
no wonder she is God's secret feminine opus!
An immeasurable black hole lies in between
the short and transcended pi, running like a river,
dancing anew on every riverbank
in the many curls of Fathima's jet black hair.

She lent out a hair to the planet earth
and crossed over like a silhouette
without spilling out the colour
of the transcended end of the pi.
The earth takes it in the core in her heart
as if it would keepsake it forever.

Weaving the pi in Fathima embeds two hairs ties one
perfect circle at the back and one at the front of the universe.
Inside each hair the earth is finest fluid in the core
none is as deep as high as proportionate a perfect flow.
No time is as revealing no music is as sweet in this orb
no force is as mighty nor as prevailing a true giant
causing gravity and the heat at the earth's core.
Matter and spirit mix free in the play both wax lyrical
thanks to the pure resonance of 'Qun Be' the word of God!

(3)
The way to the earth's core is exposed to none other
save the Angel of Death the lucky one.

See both sides of the one lofty sky swathed in countless stars  
but the day and night render through still remains an unseen one  
Terra is shalet zeroed in Fathima is heaven on earth!  
Up in the sky-high bank turning the starry bowl upside down
Fathima took no star nor a pearl diving deep down the Arab water,
the brightest luminary came after Muhammad (PBUH),
in veil from the Night of Measures and into the flipside in the night
she's gone without lifting the veil but left her penetrating mark.

Few could find the shortcut contemplating on a blank canvas
the Moon looks down into the abyss down the sea eyes on far
for a mirror in the bottom on the as above so below matter
since Godsent Fathima touched on the all-inclusive primitive water.
The sun gets caught up in the very water dew she raised in the sky
the ancient fold of time still unfurls with the sun-kissed flowers
for the new hands yet the fingerprint on the sun remains only her!

Azrael heads to Fathima around the year 632 after death
touches down in Medina on his usual thin earth he steps.  
But this time a little mundane dust couldn't be thicker
he keeps descending deep down to the earth's centre
following from Medina but the angel locates her
inside the perfect circle a closed geometric figure.

(4)
Fathima is the female headline her secret is not all known
when she used to visit the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH)
he would stand up for her hold her hand and kiss it
and seat her on his seat, she would do the same to the prophet
when he would visit her like they did know each other
in and outside the spheres of heaven and earth!

She is the embodiment of the infinite feminine variations
the first spiritual woman created following God's word Qun.
Her is the mother tongue of the ever diversified feminine lingua
no one woman on her own can rhyme with her alone
she has no peer her rhetoric is unique like none other.
The galactic run from planet to planet up on the starry ladder
climbing high up the mountain heaven yet streams out like oval
off their rock bottom stone until that unleashes the final run
in perfect circle delving into the rhythm of the loop at the centre
made of Fathima's hair charged by 'Qun' God's uncreated word.  

Prophet David can sing on the bank of the river
and can see the fish are jumping to him out of the water.
The masculine is open form, eye on everywhere,
but not her the woman is in juxtaposition her
all-inclusive schema supplanting the details rest only on her.
She is the unseen world within the world at best imagine her!
Guess, through this inwardly open door who might disappear?
It's nature before the scientist on ultimate discovery of the matter!  

Aligning with her down the rainbow up high the land absorbs
the grooming sky looking on the running rivers within her.
Her words spread through like the smart cloud that flies far
over the lands and valleys but not even the wind none other
gets a sniff of the potion and melody it caries until that rain down
without a hurdle without a visual she moves on at the target
such a soul needs no after death lift from the angel of death.

Before Azrael Fathima loses an arc of the circle then and there
so not the earth but giant Azrael can take the pressure!
Marked by a fluid discharge since then she is cooling this fire
In Shaa Allah God willing when she ajars it, it will be elixir!  

(5)
Draw a straight line, but it won't be perfect
it keeps bending, fly straight touching the sky
the flight path won't look like a straight line
it would be like the crest of a crescent moon
like curve touched the sky, like climbing up
atop the pyramid is not going high straight on
it goes up from the widespread seked slopes.

Moves in golden ration 1.618 not the full two
and gets the designing formula flawlessly full
micro to macro all levels all the way to the true north!    

Fathima being the original feminine eyeing at her
she can tap in the knowhow of naturally feminine nature.
And discovers the immanent pattern - the world
is pre-designed and measured is never a coincidence.
The creatures' creativity, scientist's science
is to follow, discover working formulas like phi and pi.

Play along it works until an unknown hour strikes
comes with accurate knowledge dead on time
numerically correct never miss taking a life away
as if it was calculated beforehand before the birth.
A newborn is born for a limited time
already set but no one knows when it goes up  
is a deadlock clock but it isn't so shrouded
in the blueprint of the creatures' grand design
there the clock ticks safe and sounds it never dies!  

(6)
Fathima hailing from the other side of the pool
eyes on the ever live pre-design side of the creation!
Then its corporeal face was only a water drop,
the primitive one looks see-through it has dead zero
knowledge of its lively other side of the pool.
She comes closer and perfectly mirrors both sides
that shines through on her reflected face on the water.
An absolute new image that livens up the dead part
Bang - Big Bang! The corporeal world gets the spark
explodes out from the very first drop of the water!

Fathima's appearance was miraculously instrumental
God reveals nature the finite and infinite, 0 and 1,
future in the present and the death and life in play!
Nature follows suit it just saw the perfect role model
banged out but only to its corporeal set
it aspires to be with its infinite reality yet!

Fathima leaves the door open constructing a perfect circle,
hardly straight, took the mixed bag of countless variations
she zooms into the abyss irrational portion of the first matter,
the primitive water drop and aces the circle with her hair
that nothing can equate throughout the corporeal world.
Done the math discovering the zero starting point at the bottom.
The ocean of digit numbers, the DNA of all things material
banged out of it, still, the zero is numberless irrational!

(7)
All things, within oneself and in a set constantly vibrate,
strive to align with the enduring reality of itself.
The atom vibrates to reach out to its immortal portion
that doesn't die and is in the know of its lower base.
The planets are in a defined circular orbit, accurately measured
just the apex on top of their dynamic pyramid the pyramidon
is tucked away; they too have an irrational portion in the circle.

With the finest spin, they zoom in the spacious universe,
in part and like the sun outside the constellations round they go
never miss a target line yet to re-discover Fathima's perfect circle
the origin of their digital essences' breakthrough
the door to their transcended destination de jour.
Lo the matter turns the last stone pulsing across the cosmos
the mortal horizontal spread, the spirit returns home.

The earth has a line in its swansong it has a place in paradise
it's not here to stay for good neither to perish forever!

Matters form and break without losing the rope,
it's not to paint the shades of the eternal blue
but to ace an irrational portion in the circle
at the heart of the earth, as above, so below.  
The deep the high the perfect circle
up and down the centre of gravitation for all!

At even and at odd the vibration within the matter is fluid
somewhere is parched there the arch matter must make a splash.
Far away on that dark beach, the full-fledged sea of the matters
outpours its billowy potion with the Moon on the frontline
from deep within the physical world's most glowed up firefly!

(8)
The seven seas swell up smoothly into the moonlight-dip
oh, the waterless Moon at the core is still fasting.
Led by time the sweet swan punting along the waves
streams down the watery inner circle of the planets.
Until stuck in the Moon no water in the last waterfront
but paradise is on the other side of the pool!  

The sun dips away into the night
while the eve baths in the shades of pink and gold,
the dazzling hues soon turn to taupe.
Drawing down painting the picture in full colour
only to find the time is up on the halfway,
yet to print a colour copy of the night!
The other unseen half is passed down to the Moon
tiptoeing in slow motion in the depths of the night
barely keeping the head afloat in a fathomless ocean
of shades of black hails from where knows no one.  

The sun enkindles the moon half-lit keeping itself away
amid shadows as if comparing the shades now it knows
a Mehrem a veiled female is ahead not to look on or
compared to that the sun has no light or true are both.

Wrapped in the eternal night beneath its black mole
once the moon on the front approaching most close
directly down to the centre of the earth eyes on
over that inlaid string hairy black perfect circle
never did it turn back the same gaze is still on
orbiting around the earth in synchronous rotation.

(9)
The never-ending night is becoming a night indeed
it's coming to an end so soon in our time.
In Shaa Allah I will see it with my eyes before I die
in the Night of Measures in an odd night in Ramadan
Fathima from the transcendental end of irrational heart
will turn on top of the curve opening for the first time
a 9-degree angle in the circle at the centre of the earth.

Instantly the leading force, time will get the first sniff
of the other world, so peaceful heart-melting serene.
Rapturous time feeling an ounce of the enduring peace
for the first time cutting all the corners with ease
will be propelled into its yet uncharted golden mean.
Scurrying to the peaceful abode time will be on its wings
across the globe, people will be stunned seeing
how first the times pass from then on incredibly quick!

Fathima, the first spiritual woman on duty, will start
pulling her hair back off the circle at the centre
Juxtaposed in between the worlds of here and hereafter.
She will take back every inch of it, the heavenly bodies
will feel the pinch of her every little subtle pull
that too is a boon helping them perfect their circle.

(10)
Soon she opens it just 9-degree wide at first
the Moon will see a glimpse of the first drop of water.
Without it, it's living perched without the water of life
that's destined to rain down soon and the Moon
back into its original pond shall revive!
Mapping the pi's whole infinitesimals playground
finally, Fathima will turn the circle upside down
on the dot the stunned sun shall rise in the western sky!

By now under Fathima's hair's shaded closed circle
it must have sailed far over the blue sky in the other world.
Billowing with the breeze over the sea of uncharted water
and stacking to the brim with all that it could discover
humbly stood like a cloud in that corner of the sky.

The time is finally ticking fast to rain down with love
paradise's welcoming schema rendering in waterpaint drops
on the Moon over the sea of matters, that's most glowed up firefly
ah, finally can break the fast sipping in a drop of elixir!
It's their heavenly adopted, Miʿrāj performed, primitive water.
The Moon with the seven seas will leave off the corporeal shell
gliding gracefully with this stately water nymph as if it never dies
and will make a splash plopping into the pond of paradise!  

For the matter ultimately is water and its extent is sound
Fathima will fetch it the water of life and take it to the next life!
Oh, the matter shall do both die and revive with Israfil's sound
the cloud will fly out of the dead water on the ground,
like the earth with chorus songs of the rain revives.
When that a melodious nymph in the water makes waves
see paradise is here the Moon over the sea can't take off its eyes.

(11)
Hang on though they all set ready on their horizontal span  
to pull in such a fluid yet colourful descending like a rainbow swan.
First chaste Fathima will evaporate her hair's perfume away
that's yet lingering in the water warming it up to its premium
no crowd then can see where this heady, fragrant cloud will fly!
There are the momentum and delights where that will alight.

Israfil might then blow his trumpet swooning the world away
the secret will remain a secret exception is said in the Qur'an.
A strange sound will silence the chorus of the innate digits
collapsing the floating cosmos bubbling on their music.  
The corporeal circle will collapse as if there is no base no pi
the melody of the first word Qun means Be will still be loud
supercalifragilisticexpialidocious so how can we all expire?

Israfil too will play his reviving trumpet pure mellifluous
and In Shaa Allah numerically perfect Fathima will rise
amidst the resonant Qun as like she did in the beginning
when except prophet Muhammad (PBUH) there was nothing!
Now the earth once zeroed in beneath her hair will follow her
the stunned terra will discover Fathima took her hair away
only to shift the constellation up onto the upper world!

The old songs of the planets the chorus of the digits will revive
from the zero bases in the core the digital panache that dance
planet upon the planet as if they are always at the perfect hertz.

Indeed that is yet to come, the arts of the fine layers
opening from the irrational pi, the finest one is to flower
when Fathima will unloop her circled hair at the centre
piercing the very immanent irrational cut
that no creation can fathom only the loving creator Allah
will turn odd to even in between the here and hereafter
then the ocean stuck in deep salt shall turn to enduring potion!
The As-Sirat shall turn to be the bridge to paradise
the body shall revive with the enduring soul forever
and with ah Fathima couple shall enter paradise In Shaa Allah
with the rhapsody 'all praise is for Allah' Alhamdulillah!
The weather was cold
The winds blew up carrying ice *****
No matter they were big or small
But they were carrying drying for skins
And great amount of diseases
The hungry man knocked the door
The miser man opened the door
The hungry man said a word and more
“I am hungry, I want some food
To eat and repair my mood!”
The miser man said at anger
,”there is no food and be outer”
The hungry man fell at the floor
The miser man with cold blood closed the door
The cat was near that
The cat saw that and came at fast
She touched the fallen man at first
She said and screamed
, The man approached to be dead”
She ran at speed

The three dogs stood at dark
At the corner of the park
They were her enemies and carried black
And hard heart

One said,” she was so conceited
The second completed, “she thought she was princess, she was created ‘’
The third said, “I must get his nose downed"
They ran after her
The great steps were heard
A big dust covered the land
They ran and escaped
She met her friend that was the cat
Jon was his name
She was curl with one foot
He was amazed and then laughed
He said,” you must get great fight
And you must beat all”
She looked angry
She said in completely,”
I met Kranckle, Dangle, and Bangle  
The three dogs ran before me and wanted to hurt
But I was so brave
I stood as one who must save
The lost justice from the dark in native
I did as “Bruce Lee’ in mark
I ran and jumped over the wall
It was dark
I tried to overlap
To be at their back
But I failed and fell
A great dust was occurred
They ran and escaped
I stood to strike my chest
With my hands, were closed
To show how I am strong
But I fell at the land”
Her friend laughed after that
She looked and said,’’
Bad boy bad”
She sighed and said,”
The hungry man may be dead
We must get him saved!”
Jon looked in surprise
He said as he looked as wise,”
Who is the hungry?”
She looked at him and pulled
Him with her strong mouth.
She said, "we need a strong one at first
He said with great nervous,”
Am I not so in obvious”
She did not answer and he was dragged
In spite of his well or his eager
They suddenly stood in front of Ankle's dog door
She called at him at loud
He was out
He laughed and said,” The cocky cat at front
Of me, I must hurt “
She bowed as the singer at the play
She said in polite way,”
My lord, I want your help!
I need you hand”
He acted like her way
He said, "ask and I respond!”
She said and shouted,’’ What is your kind?
The fallen man needed to be saved”

Ankle was surprised
He said,’’ Yesterday, you mocked”
Liz laughed in spite of her well and said,”
Forget it, forget”
Ankle asked,”what is your demand?”
Without wait she ran before him and pushed
From his back
For Jon’s surprise, he obeyed
He was ready to walk
They reached to the fallen
Ankle said,” that must be dead”
Liz screamed and mewed and said, “No!”
She cried at loud
She cried as that fallen like her father
She walked with hesitating,
She put her ear at his chest
Her face was so closed
Then he got so bright
As the sun appeared after long hide
She said.” He is still alive
We must be in hurry
To maintain his life
As the God gives it
That is right?”
Ankle said,” the human is stingy
He is honor to show that
To show his hate to his brother
Liz said,” Do the fair
And throw it at the air”
She said,” we need away
To transport him in speed way”

A big tree trunk was laid
A fast taxi was braked
Angry driver had to be out
He screamed so aloud
The street was so empty
His sound was repeated several times
In echo as fearing manners
He said,” Who puts that ****** trunk?
He must be fool”
Liz appeared suddenly
She jumped at his face
Jon bit him from his breech
Ankle tried to push, push
The angry man,”Zicko” obeyed
They signed to the fallen man
He screamed,” No!”
That seemed to be killed”
Liz looked angry
Jon mewed in nervous manner
“you must know his killer”
Ankle barked
The man was forced
He pulled him to the taxi
As the driver was old and soft
He said,” if that was killed
I may be accused”
He drove to the hospital
It was ranked
It was for high class persons
The reception ordered and shouted
At the cats and dog to be out
Zicko said,” they came with me”
The reception said after calculating
‘”we want a great amount of Egyptians pounds
It preferred to be in dollars”
They were shocked
How could they get that amount?
They looked and were shocked
The hospital laid the hungry at the land
Liz ordered,”
Come without wait”
They rode the car
They reached the stingy home
Zicko knocked at the door
The man was out
The miserly was out
Zicko tried to talk and ask
Until Jon and Liz were penetrated
They entered the home
They didn’t know any room
Liz screamed,” the second plan”
Ankle jumped behind the man
Zicko ordered to get money
He gave them with unhappy
Liz signed to tie
The man and get the key
As if they needed another demand

The money was paid
The man was in intensive care
Liz laughed and said,”
It is Egypt
If we didn’t get money
The man must die”
The surgeon came and said,”
We need medicine in fast,
As it was rare and it costs high amount
Zicko with his friends took off
They returned to the stingy one
They took what they need
They brought the medicine
To hospital, that  had stars

The miserly could untie
He told the police
The police got as hydrophobic status
They didn’t know what’s happened and case
Zicko left them and disappeared
Liz wanted to get the dinner
They were completely in hunger  
They waited out of the restaurant
They saw the waiter carried the delicious food
It was obvious from outer restaurant
After the waiter put it on the table
Jon was under it
Liz followed
Ankle remarked
Jon stole the meat
Sending it to liz, and reaching to Ankle
Ankle hurried and got out
For bad, ankle ate all
Liz and Jon made a deal
They got a food, and ankle must help
But he would not even taste it
Liz and Jon repeated
The police suddenly approached
The police searched
Krankle, Dangle and Bangle searched
Their smell sense was used
They wanted to revenge
From that cat that made them as stooge
Liz and Jon were eating
While ankle was remarking
He was coming in fast
They were told, they escaped


The cats and the dog mocked them
They entered the restaurant
The three dogs were behind
They waited until they were remarked
By these stupid dogs
The dogs hurried and entered
Ankle jumped at the servant
Who was carrying a pile of dishes
The dishes were broken
The servant shouted

The cats and dog were out
Ankle barked at loud
The police remarked
The police got in
He caught the stupid

Zicko felt with the conscious pain
He returned so fast to gain
Their happy and maintain
The favor could remain and sustain
He searched for his lovers
He remarked the police cars
He followed them
He found his friends jumped and escaped
He called at, not so loud
They were at the car which was out
They went to the hospital, asking for their man
They found no one
Liz had her tears fallen
Liz cried and mewed
Zicko went to ask about his corpse
He found no one
Till the smiley nurse was seen
She told them he was still alive
But he was moved to another room

They searched for another rich
To take some money to help other poor and might wish
A good and a happy life, they dream to approach

They sang and said,”
We wanted a fare
Like the smile at face
Hate the anger appear
And the heart who caries hate
We are friends
We love the world
All people are brothers and sisters
Creatures must live in happy and peace”

The end
the  hand which helps the other is the best hand and it deserves a good reaward from the god
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2012
1

The chards rising.  Am I the praying bird?
In the gleaming sun my bones are negative,
My flesh a cypher walking through the plains
As ghost I move, my dark lord, above me
Flocks swirl and spike. I stand accused,
Your pointed face divining oblivion,
And no redemption in the rains of my
Cliff walk days.


2

I see my shroud pinning on the wires
His legs are razored forks spinning my
Compass from True North. Your dark brush-
Fire wings, the swept wind, wheels and strings
My fate. Such black rhetoric in a burn,
Your caws, loosed perches, on the stakes, picks
My crowning grave. Black dove, your feathers finger
As they slice.


3

Smoke, the cardinal blood caries my teething
Bone, spades my hand without a flight.
Taut, the pulled noose my hooded one
I see my scarecrow’s reflexion, the scar,
Let blood, the seeded droppings end trailed
To my door. Feathers, ferry to carry on
Dowsing downward, black knight of down, to sticks
On extended wings.
JoJo Nguyen Aug 2013
I'm not religious.
I'm not even spiritual.
I'm just a cold, soft Vulcan.

The system of the down
has isolated me here
to think, which is what a Vulcan
does all the time.
It's really pointless.

It is desert, hot and cold
served in deprivation,
meditation, and
solitude.

The system has been doing
this for eons.
It's called increasing
systemic risk when stressed.

I make a cognitive chunk
for you to cogitate
over coffee.

Picture this.

Wandering Boy Scouts (BS)
in their pickup trucks,
helpful, strong,
vicious when aimless,
efficiently cruel,
mechanized abattoir makers
mass pit diggers,
merit badge takers.

Smell the BS.

It all goes into baking
gooey brownie BS,
repugnantly pungent,
and redolent of sweet
burning flesh.

Stressed, the down system
spits BS out
randomly to nucleate,
and procreate if possible.

Breeding a new Brand,
with Cult leader Classes
and all the -isms.

Visionaries with their caries;
Pushers with agendas hidden;
Leaders steadfast in conviction,
taking a nation, against
all odds, in Battling Bulges,
****** lines hidden
within clean, pleated
leather skirts
that still reveal penciled
seams up straight
shaved bare legs.

This is how the system
shakes itself; auto  
****** asphyxiation.

Vulcan's never shake
the bars of their cells
because there's no barring
except Great Walls
forbidding, with a wink,
killing each other.

To be thy Greek brother's keeper,
is to cut not that brother man,
but the other brother man
down with BS fervor and ***;
madness, before bondaging
his wounds in mummified
State, taped shut  
with a healing kiss.

To have dominion
over the animals
means a bludgeoned
pleasure, or
transplanted
desire.

Dominion to exploit
blunted, unconditional,
emotional resources,
until the system
gels again, vaginally
or astrolly whole.
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2012
1

The chards rising.  Am I the praying bird?
In the gleaming sun my bones are negative,
My flesh a cypher walking through the plains
As ghost I move, my dark lord, above me
Flocks swirl and spike. I stand accused,
Your pointed face divining oblivion,
And no redemption in the rains of my
Cliff walk days.


2

I see my shroud pinning on the wires
His legs are razored forks spinning my
Compass from True North. Your dark brush-
Fire wings, the swept wind, wheels and strings
My fate. Such black rhetoric in a burn,
Your caws, loosed perches, on the stakes, picks
My crowning grave. Black dove, your feathers finger
As they slice.


3

Smoke, the cardinal blood caries my teething
Bone, spades my hand without a flight.
Taut, the pulled noose my hooded one
I see my scarecrow’s reflexion, the scar,
Let blood, the seeded droppings end trailed
To my door. Feathers, ferry to carry on
Dowsing downward, black knight of down, to sticks
On extended wings.
Mary K Feb 2018
When I close my eyes what I see are the mountain valleys
And trees covered with snow
All around me the only sign of civilization are the ski villages
And the air smells like fire in a chimney
With a hint of hot chocolate and waffles at every turn.
I feel myself secluded on the top of one of those mountains
In a cottage covered in snow
Breathing in the fresh mountain air
Cold but only enough that it’s the coziest feeling in the world to come inside to the warmth.
Nothing but inspiration flows in these winds up here
I am as weightless as the thin air this high
And as soft snow falls it consumes me
Until I start and end with the mountain and the sky.

But I blink, and suddenly warm tropical sun is hitting my bare shoulders
White sand resembling snow, but the resemblance stops there
Because these tropical waters are alight with colors other than white and brown and green.
The ocean waves match my hair
And my freckled skin is kissed by the sun in such a way that I swear I belong here forever.
There’s the taste of mojitos in my mouth
And the smell of a scuba mask covering my nose.
Under the water is another world,
One I have never felt so close to
With sharks and corals and fish that all seem to be in such perfect balance
There’s nothing else in the world that matters but the sea and the sun and the sky.

I’m disarmed for a second by the rush of loud noise I at first think are the crashing waves
But then the shrill of a car horn caries and I realize that my feet have shoes on them once again
And they’re touching asphalt.
I look up at the buildings all around me
And though the air isn’t as fresh here,
There’s something to be said about the pretzels in the air
And the car fumes
And the smell of the pavement after the rain.
There’s so much noise, but it beats in time with my heart
And the swell of it all alights my excitement.
There is no place I’d rather be, not in this moment.
My thoughts are as abundant and high-reaching as the buildings all around me
And there’s a world of possibilities that seem to have been awoken in me as I stepped into this city.

The roar of the cars comes to a halt
And all I can hear is the wind though the fields.
My mind, for the first time in a long time,
Has nothing left in it.
I lay here, surrounded by nothing but flat land
Dotted by small white houses
With broken down brown barns to their left,
And stare up at the rolling clouds in the sky.
I don’t know where I am or where I’ve come from
All I know is that one cloud looks like the head of a lion
And the one next to it like a fox chasing his tail.
The wind softly tugs at my hair,
But I’m not cold in the breeze,
And it seems to be a part of me as much as I am a part of this field as I lie here.

Day turns to night quickly, and I’m suddenly looking up at the splattering of the nebulas.
It’s incredible. I’ve never been so close, here on the mountaintop.
I swear that if I reach high enough, I’ll be able to grab one and put it in my pocket. I don’t know why I’m so afraid to try.
The soft waves break against the shore, and there’s something magnificent about the way the ocean reflects the sky
So two dazzling displays are visible,
Working together. One stands unmoving aside from the planes that shoot across it
But the other ripples and flows, ever-moving, never-stopping.
Then I look up and there’s a haze of lights
Some stars, some planes, some just windows from buildings,
But it’s the city that never sleeps
And the stars are brilliant whether artificial or natural,
I feel each one splattered across the insides of me.
I lay here in the field,
Awake but fast asleep
More stars than I’ll ever see in my life spread out before me
And I suddenly feel smaller than ever,
This mortality that I am faced with is hammered into me by the brightness and abundance of all the stars in the sky.
I wonder who I am again,
Wonder how I got myself here,
On this mountain,
On this beach,
In this city,
In this field,
But I cannot find the through-line,
Not in this maze of constellations
And so I stop questioning for just a moment
And instead close my eyes and let my heart decide which way it wants to be pulled tonight,
And the stars oblige.
Hal Loyd Denton Sep 2012
Love’s call love’s aweThis child this woman this Queen
To speak of her you must go to the inner depths of the soul this hallowed sacred place all is ablaze with
The unalterable knowledge that things here have no secrets or malice it is a fortification and out shines
The days of royal courts and knight hood where else can or should you take a life and turn it to all sides
To reveal its riches its extraordinary complexity the divine verve laid on top of human energy that is a
Golden gate that turns on hinges that sing and the song tells all about her nature the mist on a rustic
Country path she soothes with a smoothness like the cooing of a dove it displaces everything and then
You hear it alone in the silence this modulation this wonder is speaking from human lips it slips on to the
Air and begins streaming into your ears your heart your soul it divides into tiny spellbinding wisps like
the Breeze in the orient mysterious telling a freshness it holds court you are its willing subject you never
tire Your heart only desires more is there any who can or would deny loveliness it is lilt in magic add
with the Eyes that play and show thoughts being developed there is no armor than can defeat the
softest power Over flowing you it gains strength as your wanes inward crashing outwardly it not heard
but the treble Can be observed love has reached a fever pitch it swells are descending how can this be
coming from One who is so still the liquid volute with this signet her nature begins to pour forth the
appeal of silence Gentle richness starts to effect you senses is free moving thoughts that disarm your
Own concerns you’re swept into a dream like state of mind it pushes at the far edges caries away
Misbegotten debris and Returns with a flow of bliss dark substantive a holding power locks you into her
Concisenesses what a place you find yourself in you quickly conclude you have no desire to be anywhere else
In shadow and light you drift without destinations this is the thrill ride she gives when she really gets
Started and begins to ramp It up playful delightful magical no pretense why would she ever go there I
Could write so much more but just imagine you met an angel and of all things she took interest in you
And she started to give herself to you how do you imagine you would feel well that’s how I felt these
Words were written as her Husband Tom told them to me I hope you get the meaning and truth a
treasure lives and breathes What a blessing to know her so I send these pure thoughts to her
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2013
Haze of cloud, light rain dropping cauls—
And nowhere is betraying sun to be seen,
Drowned streets, are pathways of shawl,
Low scapes of shun— wind caries a keen.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2013
Haze of cloud, light rain dropping cauls—
And nowhere is betraying sun to be seen,
Drowned streets, are pathways of shawl,
Low scapes of shun— wind caries a keen.
Jayanta May 2014
It is Ponnaiyar
Flowing to the Bay Bengal
and carries all dire rumour
Make everything fine and fertile!

This is our sprawling land
Our father painted on it with their soul and blood,

There was a time,
When their crop field remain pour.....  
without our slog.....

Over the years .......
Many water flows through Ponnaiyar......

Now they don’t called us
to transplant their paddy ..

Now they don’t called us
to harvest their paddy....

Now they don’t called us
to harvest their Sugarcane......

Now they love their machine,

Over the years ....
Many water flows through Ponnaiyar.......

My mother once asked ‘who develop machine?’
I replied, ‘Scientist ‘..........
She said ‘they are selfish’.............

Over the years
Many water flows through Ponnaiyar..........

Now we travel around,
and hunt for  living..............

Ponnaiyar still flowing to the Bay of Bengal
and caries the memo of our grief and struggle.....
In memories of Adibasi people of  Uchimedu village of Pondicherry. In my visit to the area in last week got an opportunity to visit the village and talk to different Adibasi families, Jagon a local Adibasi youth who help me in the interaction. It is very difficult to forget people’s struggle and their fight to achieve dignity.
Ponnaiyar is a river of Southern India, started from of Nandidurg hill of Karnataka and flows to Bay of Bengal.
Seán Mac Falls Nov 2014
.
Haze of cloud, light rain dropping cauls—
And nowhere is betraying sun to be seen,
Drowned streets, are pathways of shawl,
Low scapes of shun— wind caries a keen.
Spry distractions loaf on lithe intent,
men waking, wishing, trying,
b’lieving, doing, buying -inging time rather than be-,
results in salt-work, sprawling like the C
in coldness: callous spray
that dampens your New Canvas Day.

Pixels splat and reek of pure demise,
wine trauma met with whys
fires livid earth from foil-pressed crumbs
from which your towers rise. You miss
the point of -ing;
the shape you’re in’s an -e-d thing
writ past because of practice;
timed it slow, fixed solemn bets
all rife with catty pugil,
ribbons placed on “I-got-tīme-in” *******
that gleam too brightly
for the lover’s open eye. Youriyese
in grace, ingratiated by devices
(rueful caries)
shelter you from toil’s ten-thousand days.
You see them, they see you whilst print-ing,
comb-ing over, feel-ing joy anew: such sugar lines
the bottom
of a borrowed cup of time.

White hues direct-ing -ingots in a line
totally gold
and pin “pathetic” on your chest,
their best not forged in -ing or be-
(like they would want you to be) -lieve,
but rather hey! and halt!
The hollow points of discord,
blood of victims be- -in’ salt.
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2014
1

The chards rising.  Am I the praying bird?
In the gleaming sun my bones are negative,
My flesh a cypher walking through the plains
As ghost I move, my dark lord, above me
Flocks swirl and spike. I stand accused,
Your pointed face divining oblivion,
And no redemption in the rains of my
Cliff walk days.


2

I see my shroud pinning on the wires
His legs are razored forks spinning my
Compass from True North. Your dark brush-
Fire wings, the swept wind, wheels and strings
My fate. Such black rhetoric in a burn,
Your caws, loosed perches, on the stakes, picks
My crowning grave. Black dove, your feathers finger
As they slice.


3

Smoke, the cardinal blood caries my teething
Bone, spades my hand without a flight.
Taut, the pulled noose my hooded one
I see my scarecrow’s reflexion, the scar,
Let blood, the seeded droppings end trailed
To my door. Feathers, ferry to carry on
Dowsing downward, black knight of down, to sticks
On extended wings.
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2013
1

The chards rising.  Am I the praying bird?
In the gleaming sun my bones are negative,
My flesh a cypher walking through the plains
As ghost I move, my dark lord, above me
Flocks swirl and spike. I stand accused,
Your pointed face divining oblivion,
And no redemption in the rains of my
Cliff walk days.


2

I see my shroud pinning on the wires
His legs are razored forks spinning my
Compass from True North. Your dark brush-
Fire wings, the swept wind, wheels and strings
My fate. Such black rhetoric in a burn,
Your caws, loosed perches, on the stakes, picks
My crowning grave. Black dove, your feathers finger
As they slice.


3

Smoke, the cardinal blood caries my teething
Bone, spades my hand without a flight.
Taut, the pulled noose my hooded one
I see my scarecrow’s reflexion, the scar,
Let blood, the seeded droppings end trailed
To my door. Feathers, ferry to carry on
Dowsing downward, black knight of down, to sticks
On extended wings.
Seán Mac Falls Jul 2013
1
The chards rising.  Am I the praying bird?
In the gleaming sun my bones are negative,
My flesh a cypher walking through the plains
As ghost I move, my dark lord, above me
Flocks swirl and spike. I stand accused,
Your pointed face divining oblivion,
And no redemption in the rains of my
Cliff walk days.


2
I see my shroud pinning on the wires
His legs are razored forks spinning my
Compass from True North. Your dark brush-
Fire wings, the swept wind, wheels and strings
My fate. Such black rhetoric in a burn,
Your caws, loosed perches, on the stakes, picks
My crowning grave. Black dove, your feathers finger
As they slice.


3
Smoke, the cardinal blood caries my teething
Bone, spades my hand without a flight.
Taut, the pulled noose my hooded one
I see my scarecrow’s reflexion, the scar,
Let blood, the seeded droppings end trailed
To my door. Feathers, ferry to carry on
Dowsing downward, black knight of down, to sticks
On extended wings.
You paid me a most humble courtesy
Ingratiating my own imagination’s sensuality.
It ‘tis one of those quiet thinking moments
Where for a time – mere moments – one’s spirit bows
Down with the body telling the mind a beautiful story.
But the body does so much more than just tell it.
So as I remember it, your mind does replay it.
The pleasure – as if it were greater than an actual
Remembrance of any true physical event.

What does this mean? you ask.
My feelings – my dear – would not be worth a penny
If I had not given these memories along with it.
Within ecstasy's imagination you will always remember me.
Whatever comes of it will make you the better for it.
What is imagination but a prelude to creation?
With the creation of anything – its being reclaims the imagined.
Imagined – created – imagined – created –
It goes round – n – round making of itself
A flavored reality sprinkled with the sweetest of all that is.
The sprinkles you feel are the effect of the seventy five
Percent water that we all truly are.

What can you imagine would happen if our memory
Awakened with this capability while holding hands?
My love, I can see the innocence in us both.
Innocence does not mean that we have not known life.
Innocence means that we are not guilty of failing our love.
If you are affected by these words or by any of my others,
May all of them be received with an equaling retort.
Upon each turn, each ascent and descent – they all are but
Road signs marking out our journey.
The safety that I afford you is as real as my memories.

Let my memories wash you clean of the evil
That you endure daily – repairing all that is damaged.
Absorb my imagination in word, in song and visually
As you feel yourself evolve.
Isn’t it sweet to feel these sweet threads spun in love
Mixed with the colors of our affections?
You have never touched me before -
But you have haven’t you?

We have all by ourselves, with a liberating simplicity,
Coupled our minds which must prove that love
Can be out of our heads and for my part in it
I cannot help but have these convictions.
All I ask in return is that you wear this love
As if it were a coat of arms letting my
Imagination free you from any evil harm.
For my kiss caries within it an Apostle’s heart.
If evil should continue to stand in our way
I shall imagine that evil’s demise.
Casting out the demons with nothing more
Than the warmest of all kisses.

Can you not feel them cower now?
That is the power of the imagination my dear.
For what is imagination if it is not a wish?
And is not a wish a prayer?
And is not a prayer Divine Ecstasy?

Let this be our truth!

Oh Lord hear my plea, I imagine ….
What man is a man if that man cannot save mankind?
You can quote me on that...
Seán Mac Falls Dec 2012
Haze of cloud, light rain dropping cauls—
And nowhere is betraying sun to be seen,
Drowned streets, are pathways of shawl,
Low scapes of shun— wind caries a keen.
Molantwa Mmele Jul 2016
Fear of failure had me slogging
Constructing these walls of limits around me
And I’ve been confined in this prison for decades now
Consumed by my own self-made leviathan
Seeking for perfection, which smells not in this world
Procrastination, had me shackled on the same level
Letting time passing by, wasted
Assuming what the world may assume if may I fall
I may sleep in disgrace with fear,
Walking on the prickly path, away from your gashing eyes
I may drown in your scornful laughter, a stagnant pond
Of discourage for men
Whilst ageing not to be young no more
We grow naive with poor minds, weary souls
Thus age caries no wisdom nor oomph
To rectify errs of the past, though far ahead still glows
The lit of hope, the spirit to rise from the dust
To release my soul free and disrobe the coat of fear
To stand tall and soar above the horizon and reach the stars in the sky
Though I may never catch the time I let to flew away
Seán Mac Falls Apr 2014
Haze of cloud, light rain dropping cauls—
And nowhere is betraying sun to be seen,
Drowned streets, are pathways of shawl,
Low scapes of shun— wind caries a keen.
The Midnight Cries

Oh, how the false face must hind,
How it mocks my life;
I hear the sound in the night
like caries of an ancient time,
I could see the mighty light shine on in,
While others are on hands and knees
begging please not me,
that old September wind
made its way back again,
in the silence of the night
I can hear the cries,
they get closer and closer with time,
it is messing with my mind,
Oh, why do they cry?
I could almost hear trumpets
from far away;
what does this mean? when it comes
to me in darken dreams,
It sounds like a mighty earthquake
Where lives are about to end;
on blood stained sand
someone is about to take a stand,
while deadly flowers are in a cup
when a voice would say
come and drink.
It will end quickly you will see
changes will be made for you and me,
at the end of the mighty cry
when it hits midnight,
so, look around me dear queen,
tell me what it is you see,
I had no words to say to he
The one who haunts me
In darken dreams;
Then he would say to me again,
Moonlight tell me what you see,
So, I opened my mouth with would
Like thunder and said;
I see prophecies are being fulfilled,
tears are flowing out on the seas,
songs are being song,
And yet; death is being done,
Slaves do appear to hear the words
I must say; flowers are falling from the sky
while another has died;
Horror and pain come the mighty rain;
In deep emotions, they do fall;
I hear words of sorrow
knocking at the doors of the poor,
while a noble slave, tries to shine faith their way.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
The Queen Of Darken Dreams
Black Rose Dec 2018
The soft invisible weaves that
caries our souls to places
more beautiful that we could
ever dream of.
Sometimes the wind is angry
because there are no souls to carry.
So it destroys and break things.
Just because the wind doesn't
want to be alone while it travels.
Seán Mac Falls Jun 2015
.
1

The charred rising.  Am I the praying bird?
In the gleaming sun my bones are negative,
My flesh a cypher walking through the plains
As ghost I move, my dark lord, above me
Flocks swirl and spike. I stand accused,
Your pointed face divining oblivion,
And no redemption in the rains of my
Cliff walk days.


2

I see my shroud pinning on the wires
His legs are razored forks spinning my
Compass from True North. Your dark brush-
Fire wings, the swept wind, wheels and strings
My fate. Such black rhetoric in a burn,
Your caws, loosed perches, on the stakes, picks
My crowning grave. Black dove, your feathers finger
As they slice.


3

Smoke, the cardinal blood caries my teething
Bone, spades my hand without a flight.
Taut, the pulled noose my hooded one
I see my scarecrow’s reflexion, the scar,
Let blood, the seeded droppings end trailed
To my door. Feathers, ferry to carry on
Dowsing downward, black knight of down, to sticks
On extended wings.
Adam Whiles Aug 2017
With sterile thank you's we say our goodbyes and set fire to our feet as we walk. Illuminating the opposite directions we now travel.

A hollow end to a race that never truly started because neither of us really know how to run. Though I would definitely like to pretend that I can, boasting of my previous wins and marathons, urging you to the start line as I stand next to you unable to move myself.

I am a masked hollow giving advice that I want to hear, obsessed with finish lines with no plan put into the journey, no realistic way to go. Moving not an inch while I stand still at the start.
I am ambitious beyond myself, I'll peddle fanciful tales of my dreams and the life we could lead, shadow checks that I have no intent of paying out.

My feet are on fire now but through no will of my own. I run in the opposite way using someone else's flames to push motivation into my legs. It will maybe get me halfway, if I'm lucky, before I stand around waiting for another tourist who will be easily manipulated into believing my fantasies and selfish promises.

I am a salesman masquerading as a running partner, with no intension of making it through the race.
You were right to say goodbye, never fooled by my disguise. You escaped before my faulty products and cheap knock offs poisoned your soul.
I hope your fire caries you to the finish line you run towards, leave the merchant's at the start before you go.
Her
The one that caries all that is deep and warm within me
She flows like a golden river from limb to limb
Always searching for a way out of my body to be heard
But only seldom finds an exit from my exoskeleton
Leaking out from my fingertips
Or the corner of my lips
Like another soul speaking wisdom to my kin
As well as to my own ears
So that I may cary on another day
So that I can feel her warmth keeping my heart beating
Aimee Toney Feb 2014
She caries it around with her every where she goes.
It bungees from her mind to her heart, lungs and even her stomach.
It curdles her thoughts until it is the only truth she can fathom.
It ****** her dry
like the sun does a desert mud hole,
and her soul cracked from the drought.
Try as she might she couldn't leave it behind
because the darkness was always there when she closed her eyes.
It bore a stinging sensation of what had become familiar,
like the scent of a childhood home.
She dwells there
scared to venture elsewhere.
The risk of leaving behind
the only thing that had always been with her loyally her entire life
was greater than the chance of running far enough to escape it.
And its hidden in darkness that she learned the greatest skill she would ever possess. Forgery.
Deceit.
Each success,
each smile and friendship was formed to help conceal the evil she hid away.
Don't let them see.
Don't let them see.
©AimeeToney2014
irsorai Jun 2016
Oh, you beautiful escape...
You reckon me back to life
Your sway echoes along the drafts
I'm complete when you're falling.

Each drop that falls,
Is a calling back to reality.
Witch stroke of wind,
Supports my dreams and caries my hopes.

Oh, you beautiful landscape...
Bring me into normality,
Shake my foundations,
make me smile through hard days.

Your images afloat my horizon,
And It's easier everyday,
Cause everything will get better,
When nature is pure and touchable.

Oh, you beautiful world...
Don't you ever change,
Keep holding hands, hold unto sacred love.
Live between solidary and reality.

Preserve humanity as the last resource,
To keep escapes and landscapes alive.
Copyright © irsorai
12am - 09/06/2016
Seán Mac Falls Feb 2018
.
1

The scharrds rising.  Am I the praying bird?
In the gleaming sun my bones are negative,
My flesh a cypher walking through the plains
As ghost I move, my dark lord, above me
Flocks swirl and spike. I stand accused,
Your pointed face divining oblivion,
And no redemption in the rains of my
Cliff walk days.


2

I see my shroud pinning on the wires
His legs are razored forks spinning my
Compass from True North. Your dark brush-
Fire wings, the swept wind, wheels and strings
My fate. Such black rhetoric in a burn,
Your caws, loosed perches, on the stakes, picks
My crowning grave. Black dove, your feathers finger
As they slice.


3

Smoke, the cardinal blood caries my teething
Bone, spades my hand without a flight.
Taut, the pulled noose my hooded one
I see my scarecrow’s reflexion, the scar,
Let blood, the seeded droppings end trailed
To my door. Feathers, ferry to carry on
Dowsing downward, black knight of down, to sticks
On extended wings.
.
Note:
The word ‘scharrds’ is a portmanteau word.  An amalgam of,
‘shard’ and ‘charred.’
DCgirl Sep 2017
I was practicing a filling technique
(I'm a dentist so it's okay)
And it got me thinking about you
A T R A U M A T I C
It certainly doesn't hurt now, does it?
R E S T O R A T I V E
I definitely packed all the material in, didn't I?
T R E A T M E N T
Oops... I can still see the caries. And I think I filled it with trash.

well,

I'm not a good dentist anyway.

Maybe I should fill the void by writing?
In case someone I know stumbles here.. this isn't about me. And stop snooping
Adam Jones Nov 2014
Alone the black sheep caries his thorns,
Through thick thickets thin skin is torn,
The hooded king garbed in golden rings,
Wears his hood to hide his horns,
The quick snip of sharpened scissors,
No more sheep are to be born,
One quick flick of the match,
Candle burning furiously,
One cloud of smoke vapor swirling in the air turbulent,
One moment and misty spark fades into empty space,
Wind blows through new time is here you are quickly replaced,
Left now but empty sketches on an ancient pad,
You are too quickly erased
Our existence is but a small flicker of flint. Like flower pedals tossed to the ocean..there is no control, no wading away..waiting for waves to come crashing..only to be carried away.
Butch Decatoria Oct 2019
Half moon high
In a deepening sky
The clouds like spider cotton,
Like blue ivory husks betwixt
Umber grey misty fog,
The diablerie of dusk
Dark sky and stars

The streets flooded,
a river of headlights, flashlights,
Sidewalks’ pedestrian traffic,
An Armada of munchkins, crowds
Strolling by Chinatown’s
Crisp neon plazas,
A necropolis bright with
Cartoon sharp signage
Accessorizing restaurants with
Jade And gold, foot spas
And red doors…
Horrors of hangings
Roast ducks and pigs decapitated…

Yet the evening is dressed finely still
All eyes lurking
Shadows floating by
Not to be forgotten tonight
Dias de las Muertos
En espanol…

While down the road
Neighborhood way
Skitters Lilliputian creatures
In shells of Saver’s costumes
As squeals of laughter festoons
Boulevard life with
Tiny tintinnabulations
Like baby rattlers
Against the dark
(Maracas for chupacabras)

Timorous parent folk
Encouragement as company,
They Scurry past
Down dim spatial street
In demand of what is given freely
From each and every door
Treat and sweets
Caries galore
All their tricks cached in grins
Of baby teeth
turn candy corn…

Mischievously the meek milk
All Hallows' Eve For
Hallowed be the glee
Even tho' beneath
The web of grey cloudy sky
Life is precious
To deny
The thirsty as it rains

Misery’s loss deep dismal graves,
We should live in celebration
Childlike everyday
Sing and dance
In the October rain
In this wonder
Like rattlers against the dark

Far from wastes of
Hollow wind and pain,
Chilling cries, bleeding eyes,
Undead the unseen
From this cirque city of sins
Offsprings on the strip
Fearless on the boulevard
Treating & tricking
With ole candied lies…

All done up in bright disguise
Happy Halloween.
Revised from All Done Up in Bright Disguise.
Happy Halloween 2019
The Midnight Cries

Oh, how the false face must hind,
How it mocks my life;
I hear the sound in the night
like caries of an ancient time,
I could see the mighty light shine on in,
While others are on hands and knees
begging please not me,
that old September wind
made its way back again,
in the silence of the night
I can hear the cries,
they get closer and closer with time,
it is messing with my mind,
Oh, why do they cry?
I could almost hear trumpets
from far away;
what does this mean? when it comes
to me in darken dreams,
It sounds like a mighty earthquake
Where lives are about to end;
on blood stained sand
someone is about to take a stand,
while deadly flowers are in a cup
when a voice would say
come and drink.
It will end quickly you will see
changes will be made for you and me,
at the end of the mighty cry
when it hits midnight,
so, look around me dear queen,
tell me what it is you see,
I had no words to say to he
The one who haunts me
In darken dreams;
Then he would say to me again,
Moonlight tell me what you see,
So, I opened my mouth with would
Like thunder and said;
I see prophecies are being fulfilled,
tears are flowing out on the seas,
songs are being song,
And yet; death is being done,
Slaves do appear to hear the words
I must say; flowers are falling from the sky
while another has died;
Horror and pain come the mighty rain;
In deep emotions, they do fall;
I hear words of sorrow
knocking at the doors of the poor,
while a noble slave, tries to shine faith their way.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
The Queen Of Darken Dreams
Costas
rompientes del entonces
resacas
subvivencias que arenan el ahora
calas
caries del tiempo
Cuanto conjuro lacio
cepotedio
soborra
concubinada
soplosorbo del cero
vacío
vacío ya vaciado en apócrifos moldes sin acople
Qué han de bastar los crótalos
las figuras los pasos de la sangre
el veneno de almendras que se expande al destapar un seno
o las manos de viaje
Dónde un índice totem
una amarra que alcance
una verdad un gesto un camino sin muerte
alguna cripta madre que incube la esperanza
Sólo tumbos
retumbos lentas leznas acerbas
ambivalentes menos
poros secos
desbastes
fofo hartazgo termita y asco verde
exapoyos
maltrueques
Sólo esperas que lepran la espera del no tiempo

— The End —