Silence remembers the shadow of a sound
Like a shadow is the remant of light
What was and is, simultaneous yet distinct
At the fore, the latter, naught else

Winter barren branches, trophies of warmth
Sun that once flecked the air, kisses
One sided, denied their mate
Cruel company, an apt partner

A figure in the refuse; wax in white gown
Loved and cherished for but a day
Quelled by an extinguished flame
Forgotten in the settlement

Warm, fall, harden; even as the source dims
Love, blown cold by loneliness and realization
Upon a sill keeping watch o'er the dark
The heart and hope: trapped by longing

Life, silky residue on a smoking gun
Each instant is but an echo
A shadow. Dead before life's touch
Lived in retrospect

candles ward off bad dreams,
and ward off old men and women
from waking in the night...
don't ask me how I came across
culture's
               harder than the rest
album,
   my Jamaican drug dealer
said I listened to culture
  when I started listing my
discography, inheritance
Marley... Ziggy, Damien,  Stephen...
Israel Vibration...
somehow urban ****** via
rap... always had too much blind
about it...
to counter rap I had to look
into sclerosis blanca...
    skunk thread, skinny scalps...
you know the sort...
Cockney wiseguys
who didn't sing along to:
say ooh la la say sum...
c'mon c'mon...
           primal sin...
and when her younger sister
walked down the stairs...
and her 14 year old glee...
then there and then:
my muse, untouchable...
    no beauty in the eye of the beholder...
save for a needle's eye,
and a life, worth a string thread
to replace footprints
on what remains
the enigma of the Thames' murky tide...
before the sidewinder serpent
on the dunes...
man walking on a beach,  
on the buffer zoning,
on god's land...
           harvester of mortality,
and the immortals' insomnia....
forever my muse: the prior to yah...
obviously having ******
one sister would be bothersome
******* another...
and the I was, thinking
that Sienkiewicz's novel
krzyżacy would be mezmo...
******* colt knight of a hot-head
zbyszko ruined the whole
****** novel...
   me waiting for teutonic monks...
giving bombastic speeches
of contradictory celibacy....
the germanic older brother
of the anglo saxon *** tease jokes
that became a complete ******* flop...
but given the medieval scenario...
if she wasn't married off
by her late teens,
  she would be deemed desolate...
inheritance tax in the current year
worth no more, than taboo...
    a first laid upon sight...
voyeurism of omni-
   qualities, hidden behind the extensive
walls of mirror(s)...
             concentrated lust,
best ascribed to a seasonal diet of:
and english strawberry in summer months,
watered down moths of flavour,
Iberian, in the wintry clot of:
what of bear as mammal,
   easing into hibernation?
   observing the natural hierarchy...
man is incomplete, in that he hasn't
adapted to the benefits of 1 dimensional
honing expenditure...
the whale a mammal,
the bear a mammal,
the former a fish,
the latter an insect...
                         transcending categories
of OCD humanists...
                   bear the remant of
a lazy bird...
   who learned to hibernate,
rather than migrate...
      out of the Alaskan tundra...
****... keep your out of Africa narrative...
and take your brown Jesus with you,
while you're at it.