in a dark of frenzy it boils up inside
until summarily and inexplicably
see the colour between brown and blue
more than see it, immerse myself in it
swimming slowly in its clouds
see the colour between brown and blue
everywhere votive candles light
the colour between brown and blue
with slender tapers that touch a life
any life, your life
casting strange shadows, loose shadows
between the colour of brown and blue
children swarm, children with bright white
starvation hair, children with hands
like small worn mittens
who raise red swarms in hot worn out
death laden dust
dust that cauterizes the nostrils
with the stench of penurious insanity
the colour between brown and blue
that inveigles a purchase of flies
bottle blue, black blue, green blue,
swarming blue, swirling whirling blue
a black and blue confetti of flies
then the sudden zero of the
colour between brown and blue
hair raising, command faith
willed, willing, mumbling, murmuring
the excitement of writing between
the colour of brown and blue
trees shake and tremble
words regurgitate themselves like hot
food, the bark, write
now fully electrically charged
seized by the colour between brown and blue
forget everything else, write, write more, more, write
trembling with sudden shudders of merciless
vowels, madness penurious pencil
moves across, demanding paper
pushing worn words, worthy words whittled by use
words not yet written, words of wonder
oh what words
beautiful, baffling,baleful, words
with beastly beatitudes, words that conjure the mind
words between brown and blue
that leave you skinny like a stray dog
words so demanding leave you shut up in an
airless abattoir of high energy and low residue
the colour between brown and blue
where everywhere is everywhere else
touched by the flames of the colour between brown and blue

Dear...
This haphazard poem was written solely for you
Matterless, what you came garbed in
Fever elicited, passion anew
You’ve graced me, the repetition of ‘could-have-been’
I loved the way you speak
Of knowledge and triumph
And I, bumbling and meek
Tirelessly I sought and now still seek
Your council, your court
For my amusement, for my sport
Conversing over a poisoned well
I listen in genuine
Raise my voice
Sing with my friends amongst the din
Higher on the pillar, you I hoist
Pure skin my well intentioned hands mar
Clumsily, I lean into a similar heart
To discuss life and literature, fantasies these hands take too far
How eloquent the silk you weave, which you impart
Which inveigles and entices, cajole us into the city
On pale page, the street lamps and dim moon, art
Palpitations and liquor test the pity
Of light and fire
I cannot help but explore your shapely form
And yet, without bar
Across miasma, my guide is a cute little hand
Solitude, the pulsations do doggedly solicit
I just want to be close, you grant this
Bewitched by the creamy satin of pale skin
Distantly, warmly, I gaze in those God-given sculptures
Of the richest green and azure hues, bespeak feminine
Engaged in the other’s stare, two drunken apers
The night, black as sin,
The mould of outcome of we are the shapers
And I shape regret that rises with the sun
You come back vividly and lucidly
Distant and opposite, worlds across, you from me
A nondescript ghost in the corner
Who speaks so placidly
I remember with regret
I remember with exultation
I’ve ruined our relationship
Our relationship topical felicitation
I haven’t had time to apologize
I haven’t had enough time with you
If I ever see you again
I’d mend everything
I’d discover the girl behind the name
And cleanse the projection askew.
Love, Me
Dear...                 .

a never girl sits
thigh wide pretty
to the hilt
slit skirt
inveigles up
her
      and

by the skinny
breach of her
is a quick boy hungry
with
          a
             mouth

spit
       and gelatinous
               reams ofit

gets all over
a never girl
                       who
                               slits,
                               pretty
                               with a hilt,
                               hungry boy's
                               throats

The moon glistens,
A lullaby had creeped,
Inveigles me to sleep
with my eyes open.

We are the civilised
and most-informed breed
but have surrendered
our right to lead-

tribes-people we have
been converted into
the 'head-person' is electronic
step by step it inveigles
it's the shepherd
we are the lost sheep-

it's the mastermind
every thinking mode
it invents--we are hooded
here's the demise
of thought
the prison of feeling
and conscience
ideas fade and rot
the arts and creativity
they are all dead
and buried--

it knows no bounds
and this it does articulate:
' more, infinitely more
shall be brought
to enrich, empower and endow
don't think the future
would replicate the now
this is but a single dot
in the spectrum of things to come-

a collective mind
would come about
encompassing every nation
every people
every place
and space

the ruler
shall claim
the title
of 'The Universal Brain'
it's the 'Powerhouse of Reason'

the stars and the moon
shall learn to speak
the sea would know
how to sing alongside the waves
all non-human life
would languages acquire
and with us it would talk
and communicate
even the flowers
plants and trees
would be made to walk-

love shall be
a phenomenon
forgotten
an amorous apparatus
shall be built
into the heart
its feelings and emotions
shall be monitored
a printout leaves
the Electronic Domain'
with either one
of two words:
' Failed' , 'Passed'--
  courtship and marriages
  are subject to control
and scrutiny
lest irresponsibility
and folly
pollute love's beauty--

we would have been trained
to accept, obey and comply
and shall never complain
for we have the tribal mind
we would never dare to contend
all shall be deemed technical perfection
there would be nothing more
to refine, revise, modify or amend-

we shall all be assigned
a new name
that bears testimony
to the tribe that defines us
( in our electronic identity
none shall meet with any shame)
we'll stand by one another
we are of the same brand
never to split asunder--

you would know
my name
remembering
is this easy-
it's just  ' IT'.

all the trains have lost their cars and the miles sprawl in leagues
toward an alabaster eating the yellow from a black heart
as moonbirds swear fealty to deep light
and careen into blithering with all the noise of wounded camps
and the gifted cauldrons of our unspoken words.
there are flags in the twilight, resting on a spear at the foot -
of untold Otherness.
claiming a kingdom, ransomed to the Highest Believer
and tethered to a stone that adores weightlessness
but has too heavy a heart to simply float.
should oblivion be deferred, it would take a tide of blood
from a frozen clot. a burst of uncanny resolve
that inveigles the lost symmetries of alluring Dystopias
with a gentle grenade that has lost its **** mind.

THEN you can see the Exit
when it darks
and all thought balloons
of the truly Lost.

and get gone.