"slews" poems
*song shadows
soul and mirrors
will we ever see clearer
sweet life
oh the fragrance
the righteous mind
un-sees the danger
so many soldiers
so many women
are all of our fathers
really little children
move swiftly
into the windy recesses
the mind regresses
all the time
damp and wet
the owl cries
so long tomorrow
farewell goodbye
dunk your head
in liquid splendor
i am tender as the snow
pouring down from heaven’s fiefdom
morning's hunger is dissipated
by moonlight kisses and salty lovers
salves of calendula upon our skin
swim in juicy wonder
listen and dance with thunder
the fireflies swim through burning skies
making arcs and triumphant cries
what a silly blunder
all the noise and all the cover
hiding your heart in violet garments
streams of satin in your slumber
stroke the liberated arrow
weave the gardenia’s shadow
streams of consciousness and beauty
looking into eyes of human strategy
human shadows
start to suffocate us
instruct the timber
plundered
strumming humid arias
looms of butter start to melt
svelte and spelt
slews of wealth
heaven's belt is loosely tied
striated like the mind
grinding hind legs
selves neglect entry fees
sleeves of grass
embrace strands of ice
with a lover or two
on the side*
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 9:55 AM UTC
i am higher than the sun
a million miles above the one
who controls the sky
i am a record keeper
a handler of snakes
and retribution is my middle name
i am palmistry
i am sandalwood
i am a refuge and a grave
i am a paperweight
i am a slave
i see the dream space opening and closing
its talking to me
she makes faces at the fading light of the stars
do we trust our visions or are we prisoners of reason
the faceless, the voiceless wanderers
drifting in underwater color schemes
concupiscent dreams
the netherworlds beckon to us
we can't help but heed their liquid calling
i am boiling in my bathtub
joining hands and hearts
we rub away the stars from our bodies
and come clean to ******** whistling
the meandering echoes
of our fantasies
in lands of allegory and unstained wisdom
remnants of our ancestors
dancing their embodiment
with slews of musical instruments
and brews of medicine and healing herbs
we are finding the magic in our icons again
like diamonds drifting between realities
the coming satisfaction is becoming less and less attractive
so you suggest we take a deep breath
and get back to making love
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
*a follicle of light is falling from the house of our master
troubadours warp our imagination
with jasmine and other heady fragrances
gypsy eyes steal salt water from tides
and return them to our adjacent lives
slaves and slaveholders, slews of cattle
ranchers, and fathers battle
keep mustard seeds by the bedside
and burn irises like incense
hours fly by and leave us hurting
in piles of rusted shirts and clothing
her luck has begun to expand but man still demands his fate
so redecorate your cottages and receive the visitor's hate
make music burst throughout the garden
as lonely brushstrokes reach out to touch your bottom
i am moving, doing, and having faith only in the theater
she is carrying fetid water with feet bloodier
than the skyscrapers bound to her posterior*
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
I walk in from the dark and wet
The glass door sprung to slow me.
Find a chair.
Collapse.
Am I exhausted or
Not?
I don't know.
A friend of long ago and now is dying
The shadow of his place with gulls and shops
I leave on Albert Road.
Broken arm across his short betraying breaths
With that inevitability grin
I know so well from school and later,
As little bitter fortunes
Unfurled their flags.
I walked in through his easy door
Words floundering till whisky hits
Then:
Of course we will! Sure we will!
- We fill the months and weeks with plans
Travel to the sights he wants for him.
Boats and Locos, Houses, Friends.
The evening slews in amber liquid,
Fades in fervent words.
Morning grey.
For me the stunned drive back to work
And England's ridges higher - home to home.
Finally Southbank - monied words.
Their voices to the ceiling reach:
A gentle civilised hubub of the saved
Bathed in culture, purpose and the careful light.
And you are back there, purposing a
Fractured night
That counts each clock chime you restored.
Oh now, by all the alleys, faces, roads
And domes of London,
Would it were not so
Not so
Not so
Not so.
Mar 10, 2010
Mar 10, 2010 at 8:23 PM UTC
The moon is quiet and thoughtful.
Roads barren and damp with the sweat of horses and their riders.
Prints of disheveled hooves embedded in the ground.
The putrid smell of smog, hints of cobblestone and blithering drunks, waits in the distance.
London’s finest on Fleet Street, where the people live in fear.
Todd glares into the fiercely sparse street and mourns a farewell to a life of prosperity.
Lamps flicker as the oil barely lingers, while dawn silently but swiftly approaches.
The poets dream for slews of new and benevolent days, whilst their slumber is interrupted by the tower bell.
Six times the ringing and the brightest star reveals its radiant beauty o’er the steamy ledges of London.
Jan 21, 2014
Jan 21, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
I've yet to forget,
slews of verses on paper
written just for you.
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
I talk to myself
as the night arrives
in little caskets
slipping over
yellow rooftops.
Winter slithers
& rattles back
under the doors,
while spring slews in
on orange cloud.
I say your name
& a luster throbs
across the walls.
Late hours are
breach born,
full of bent bays
of lamp light,
I plead into the ceiling
until I fill
with sharp shapes
draped raw,
& my little speeches
perish in gloves of air.
Out of the window,
black ribbons streak
the riverbank face
to the moon etchings.
High tides blot me:
I still feel as I did
when I met you.
You're a heart shaker,
you wrest the lid
from the world,
your joy fills
my naked mouth.
But something
has gone wrong,
hasn't it?
Disordered,
melancholy -
you, too, see
the night-caskets,
don't you?
Dublin facades
vanish beneath
rain scissor arms.
But it needn't be so -
come and lean on me.
I will remind you
that spring is come
with green armies
of blithe devotion,
trees flick
with leaf,
& you are loved.
I know you don't even
like me to call you babe,
not anymore, but
I'll live with that -
I'll tell the floorboards,
the starlings and magpies,
the unsealed horizontals
that report at dawn:
it will be alright,
it will be alright.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 8:17 PM UTC
Your sound relapsed
as my mind elapsed.
When my lungs again gasped,
I couldn't be more harassed.
You held my hand one day,
as if I never dreamed a day.
I don't want a 'Hey',
I just want you to say.
You know what I want you to speak.
Please,don't make it too sleek,
I know you won't let it leak,
Hey,It's better if you'll speak.
I do know that love rules
and,hate slews
but,I do love to muse
that it's left too loose.
Loving is not an avocation,
it's beyond suffocation,
You don't know the fabrication
I don't intend to make a worse vacation.
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 6:59 AM UTC
Today
Is simply
Too magnificent
And beauty-filled
To feel as low, as I do
Is it
That I viewed
Some flawed fool
Capable of holding my gold
Trust sold cheap, a painful rue
Or the
Simple truth
Perhaps, I am
The mercurial shift
Along with the sands and infinity too
Or that
I've been blind
To said beauty's bound
An ample and abundant spread
Amongst the slews of trivial miscues
Likely
I avoid
Freedom's siren ring
For familiar's amenity chains
Electing convenience over break-through
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 6:49 PM UTC