Thursday, April 21, 2016
April 21, 2016
Miniature seconds devour future souls
a paper fold declares, "truth behold"
a splintered eye
a hang nail
bite nails
we're all nervous
don't know which way to look
when crossing the road
sentimental briefcase
second hand basket-case
that weathered man wearing a territorial cap
glares through nostalgic frames
and glistens
through his breath
defensive whisper, "what a beautiful day", under the nasty tongue
inevitable sun rises
the banshee is accurately predicted to resurface
cling to the moons sleeve
plead
please don't leave
please don't leave
5 of the 7 earrings are lost
and so we start again
void of an end
pro silver
conservation
the morning shall bring
sequin dresses in damp dawn grasses
black tease panty hose resting limp on bedroom floors
chammomile tea
breath
ease
,
Sunday, April 3, 2016
March 31, 2016
Two men in the distance are sitting on a park bench, Kelvingrove, Glasgow
The two are dressed in a sort of fisherman-thrash attire
One younger and in scraggs of black, neat around the edges, refined rebellion
which claims, he rocked the cradle but now the baby sleeps
The other man, old and weathered from slated rain and liver pangs
is sitting in a 'rightfully so' position, wearing a matured sandy brown and pea green
plaid hunting fleece and a brown lambs wool ear flap hat
he nudges his mate, as the girl draws nearer from the distance
and he locks her down with his timeless busted confidant gaze
old slated man stands up in the midst of an isolated beam of sunshine
flogging her attention with his severe charisma
she takes her headphones off, offering her attention
unknowing if there will be a heckle or an enticement
his bottom jaw hangs heavy, his gold grill glistens
and he sings
"with your long blonde hair
and your eyes of blue
the only thing I ever got from you
was sorrow
sorrow"
"Aye, David Bowie it is! That's David Bowie!" he banters with pride
she looks at him with a talcum smile
grabs his historic plaid arm
stares him dead in the eye
and says,
"Thank you...Thank you for that"
he stands quiet for a split second and smiles
then sits down and continues to roll a fag with his pal
and she walks on
with reassuring tones of unwashed tales and a melody in mind
.
The two are dressed in a sort of fisherman-thrash attire
One younger and in scraggs of black, neat around the edges, refined rebellion
which claims, he rocked the cradle but now the baby sleeps
The other man, old and weathered from slated rain and liver pangs
is sitting in a 'rightfully so' position, wearing a matured sandy brown and pea green
plaid hunting fleece and a brown lambs wool ear flap hat
he nudges his mate, as the girl draws nearer from the distance
and he locks her down with his timeless busted confidant gaze
old slated man stands up in the midst of an isolated beam of sunshine
flogging her attention with his severe charisma
she takes her headphones off, offering her attention
unknowing if there will be a heckle or an enticement
his bottom jaw hangs heavy, his gold grill glistens
and he sings
"with your long blonde hair
and your eyes of blue
the only thing I ever got from you
was sorrow
sorrow"
"Aye, David Bowie it is! That's David Bowie!" he banters with pride
she looks at him with a talcum smile
grabs his historic plaid arm
stares him dead in the eye
and says,
"Thank you...Thank you for that"
he stands quiet for a split second and smiles
then sits down and continues to roll a fag with his pal
and she walks on
with reassuring tones of unwashed tales and a melody in mind
.
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