"uncoloured" poems
Glassed with cold sleep and dazzled by the moon,
out of the confused hammering dark of the train
I looked and saw under the moon's cold sheet
your delicate dry ******* country that built my heart;
and the small trees on their uncoloured slope
like poetry moved, articulate and sharp
and purposeful under the great dry flight of air,
under the crosswise currents of wind and star.
Clench down your strength, box-tree and ironbark.
Break with your violent root the ****** rock.
Draw from the flying dark its breath of dew
till the unliving come to life in you.
Be over the blind rock a skin of sense,
under the barren height a slender dance...
I woke and saw the dark small trees that burn
suddenly into flowers more lovely that the white moon.
19.4k
Grumbling engine underground
Again
Rotates and repeats.
The echo
The steamy yawn
Mellow fiend unseen
Creeps
Bearing teeth in metallic joints.
A fat snake's yawn
Blows and bellows quietly.
Uncoloured ornament at ten feet
Floats through that crawling wind
Full from everything it could eat.
***** sand in the far east
Rustic in the sense of dripping spit.
The blue walls painted over the white plain
Are scratched
White walls slain.
Drilling ripple
In the black pool
Ink
Coloured the lonely riddle.
A cold under the sun
Blinds our noses
Disguising away our senses.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:29 AM UTC
Have you ever looked through frosted glass,
and tried, with futility, to define
the outlines of a distant subject?
All my life I have done so.
My eyes are the icy glass of isolation:
They awaken me to empty human shells that,
Despite their sharp scents of smiles and summer,
Are uncoloured with a vague sense of fogginess.
For if you thought them geometrically similar,
Outwardly identical and biologically matching as I:
Just as you would not expect one to talk to animals,
I find myself equally inadequate and
isolated.
I yearn to smash: first, this glass I look through.
Then, the shells of the first body I find.
In hope that, the blood of non-isolation,
Of non-emptiness can wash and flood,
Drown and dissolve the despair
Of an inability to reach across,
Of living behind a glass,
Of fading
away.
All your life you have looked through this glass, and
All your life you have lived in this claustrophobia,
Smashing futilely.
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 7:16 AM UTC
You thought I couldn't see you
Hiding on the other side of the window
Catching my breath
Through the curtains
It's in the air
Green eyes looking for me
Stop thinking and act as you feel
Through the glass and the uncoloured
I still sit at the table
I still drink black coffee
I still look back at the invisible
I still bite my tongue
Your hands and your flesh
There used to be something inside
You don't have to say my name
I understand
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
It would be much too dangerous to talk about
Or remember at all
That night
A piercing scream from behind
A clatter of fallen crockery on the floor
Crimson fills the apron she wore
I do not yet think to ask how or why
My heart beats a silent cry
I kneel beside to feel her warmth
All I feel are empty eyes slice into my soul
My eyes look over the pool of red
Gathered by the drops her body shed
But for the blood, she can be lost in dreams
I think, as I imagine her pale in peace
Grabbing a mop
I cleanse her of the damaging dye
Her body now remains uncoloured, untainted
Of that which still inflames her quintessence
She's been marked, I realise
In an irreparable scarlet
All action, all words- scattered on the tiles
Lying broken and futile
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
Reflections I feel.
Reflections that steal like a thief in my eyes.
In a day full of highs...reflections are low.
Sometimes I wish those reflections would go.
Another wish unfulfilled like a dream I once had,when things weren't so bad and all I could see when I was looking at me was a young man on the make.
If I could take back the years and the time that has passed,the ref...lection I see couldn't possibly last.
But now I see deep inside..where Devils and Angels play games and in those hide and seek names they remind me of Heaven and Hell.
The Sunday School bell.
I look for a while and realise all is well and that this is the way I suppose it to be..
..in reflections of me..
...I can see shattered stones,mountains of bones and dry river beds, uncoloured sky and a time that won't die..a peace blown apart.
A start an an end
A refusal to bend
A message I know I must send to apologise.
In a day full of highs..
..Reflections are low.
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 10:01 AM UTC
mouth quickly incredible tripping with youth meekly feels
moist, single, and crimsonly accelerates two bent velvet
lengths of lip, mouth, singly imports a kneading on my
short lanks of uncoloured. Dear,
who small, wan, paleness
of cheek is writ with the
quiver
of
cupid's
pricking,
treads
of thy nostril, lip, and ear silver
hangs a curving set of beads from
thy nose
and the back of your
head
is
nice
under
my
hand
pressed
thickly
into
cotton
and
your
back
,which,
slithers
and rolls
says,
"hello, destroyer"
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
cammo
I'm swimming in blue cammo
Eyes closed
a vision within.
(Just holding each breath)
A million bubbles
trapped beneath
a sealed and silent
surface. My lips. Languid desire.
(I can feel them/behind my eyes)
Blue and black
Shades of grey (sweet disguise)
myriad moments
uncoloured by time (in blue, everything is you, disguised)
Only trapped like lime
in stone.
I cant breathe when i'm swimming in you.
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 2:39 AM UTC
everything pink forever please
put your hat on it will make no
difference in me that is now
unsigned of long fingernails and
curly shawl driving through the axis
of your eyes in a sixties suburbia
in me that is now uncoloured curly
smile i twist my thoughts in
paraphernalia that they might fit a
life fathomable by authority i sit
knee deep between surfacing
sheets i want erasure posture
means darkness my spleen
disagrees each morning
body-thoughts and you-suit
i sat on the edge of a rectangular
ear my feet the teeth to bite white
nights to whisper how self-lies and
love hands me nothing but life and
a weak notion that nothing of more
than a bleak scarcity is coming
written on my skinny toes
how do i walk laterally
you raise your head and tail
coincidentally like a skunk is always
perhaps faded like you are always
howling for yourself pitiable
madman how the world is a tragedy
unlike thee how do i stop thinking i
am going to die
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
come, undie, and summer you're like
don't sleep (at night even) in moon light
rushes straight lengths of uncoloured
flowers pale at bite of big with, same as
cheeks, mouth that agile flutters with
gossamer limp of sugar's hue and glowing
waft, O
Summer
like naked, me, like you, I, each parcel
each languor of thy dark eyes is a house
holding my strained dust of burns with
incessant girl needing powder to coat
every petal dusted in my unprim lewd
often slight grin that wants for unbroken
never felt barren pages of wordless girlskin
and dig a middle finger into monthly blood
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
Scrapped bits of paper
Are like picking up
Uncoloured-in bits
Of reality.
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 4:22 AM UTC
without nearly mercy the strange brawn of sinuous boughs thickly forested thoughts. wreathing simple futile furious thoughts. wearing sluggish fatty
eyes prepondered coloured and uncoloured (right in their middles) disks
flinty gristle they're black right in the median outside inside upside downside
left and right and left. my heads wearing them and more flush with nose
and just below them it's there and just below it, lips are waiting slightly
parted waiting to guzzle sickly the ruby hard cords on your face your face
is there with lips and eyes and teeth are there on your head and hair to
is coming right out the top of your head where my fingers go amongst their
limber stocks and digging slightly digging into the pale soil of your scalp
AS YOUR TOUGH STIFF HARD FUTILE LIPS ROIL OVER MY
stupid ugly soft lazy lips, over my dumb wonderful bloodied lips
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 2:00 PM UTC
luminosity had all but weaved its last
expiration, where it kept that which
converged on its illumination as it
receded in distance but never removed
from its enclosing embrace.
For when these lighthouses in the darkness
succumb to the inevitable throws of
consciousness and descended with in
themselves. All was consumed and
expelled in exasperating frustration.
A single lamination was all that what once
was. Its sorrow began to preoccupy all
that was burdened in to the sorrowing
retribution. All fell beneath it, exhumed
from there places into nullity, and tears fell.
So many illuminations once lustful in there
symmetry had now become tears of creations
unweaning. forfeiting there once gleaming
stance, only one was left in a lagoon of nothingness.
Frail and weak watching all dance upon its breath.
It instituted its falling, as a tear of purity fell.
But in its descending it became as onyx and
this juncture was now preordained. Not one
to fall to the whims of others, she just uncoloured
in form and faded into herself becoming no more.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC