Love in my heart

Love in my heart

Thursday,
July 26, 2012

12:05 PM

When the universe
talks to itself,

Its use of deja-vu
and double entendres

Almost scares me.

Everyone alive
knows, what it means to just ‘get-by’,

But if you’re
thinking about tomorrow,

Why?

It a pale muted
undertone, ‘nary a word was said’.

Nary a hare or a
tarnation or eagle scout,

Nay He on High best
to You and Yours

Carry a farthing
farther than, any ol ten peckery owls ever hoot.

Ever a dust was
soot. Was this earth, scorched ashes, and dirt.

Embers of us that
was lost to old ages,

Breathe life to new
pages,

Lieges and Lords,
lances wrout with the crimson.

Nicks in their
knives, chipped tooth.

Come back in August
Days,

To Fields of brief
appeal.

And life-long
admiration.

The crest, yet the
word of another upon mine heart, and mind,

Given me, by mine
own hand, which was not of the host.

A Foreigner.

I wayward walk the
travel took,

The wilds and the
wind might take to cleaner names,

Fresh aroma of
bitter repugnance

The sweet the cattle
laid,

Do seats cushion on
the ladle?

Soup.

We called it hearty
enough to eat, and heal our home.

The wood we gave
became our trees from which

We took.

I blinked twice and
just missed it.

Was a carnival, in a
great wide open.

Human spectacle,

The hay, a carrot
more found the horse relieved.

Trumpets, then from
the rear, louder than even one not worth note would revere.

Shiny metal, and
sound, light from abroad, a caravan, travelers, mystique.

For the poor dumb
peasant endowed with his reek.

The stench of great
cities,

In a bottle for
free.

Drank with a draft ,
daft tilted and staffed, standing,

A taller order
still.

His thirst was
unending, the drought which wrought lives upending.

The dried out called
it a sip,

A measle  of moisture

A speckle of hope

Drip-drip.

I swore sooth to old
Sayers who know tales truer than ones you will tell.

I broke bones with
your idols while they still,

Chaliced the veil.

We shucked jive on a
day of rest.

All manner of hell
and high-wire.

I shall not attest.

Maids and Merryment,

The subject of ale
and latitude,

That waist of a wise
hourglass.

Arouse assumptions
of well wishes.

Candles of wax slink
out,

Better not remember
too fondly, the fox, the hound and the hunt.

Best left to ones
own devices.

—————————

I’m meddling minds.

—————————

On account of ones
own grand verbosity.

Deeds unsettled.

Who comes to claim
the unkept holes in the roof?

Rain.

Falling on me, am I,
just part of the sky.

IT IS MY WORDS THAT
MAKE YOU,

Unauthored.

Sniff sniff,

Who comes smelling
at my roses.

The good and none
that come out of it.

I pencil shears,
sharped ears, listening for Satan’s elves,

A rustle roustabout,

A bloke of barrel
chested flume and stout.

A fluer du lis, du
pris un um pointe neat.

Two gins and keep
the tonic straight,

I got noir to tell
in old ivory town.

The pearly gates
ain’t seem so squeak,

I battered busted
broke the damn near nose of poor mouse,

Who had a hallow
crumb to eat,

Did pray tell, lend
a word of what the cupboards need.

Too many misers in
the bloat.

The raft, a wake,
the water let the dead release.

Behold the church of
consciousness.

Whose walls crumbles
for its first disciple.

You are not built of
this,

You are not
circumvent,

Said We who are the
everything.

When I person to
your animal,

Excuse the reasons
for dinstinguishments,

Better garments are
left at home to rot in pieces of the flesh to bare.

———-

Did you find any
fucked up evil to put inside you?

———-

I triangled.

English, easy angel.

Not an utterance
more,

Your wings in need
of mend,

Your message then
can wait.

I must care for you,
before the ink dries,

love you before the
sun too dies,

While the tale still
in the telling,

While the yarn is
still a woven-ing

Whilst there still
be knot to string.

Cast off the danged
numb battlements,

And feel the heart
alone again.

 

  

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