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I don't normally spend a lot of time on poetry, but I tend to produce a few pieces each year...and a few dozen pieces every time I have a poetry class or workshop at school. Here I'll showcase the handful of poems I rather like.
Redlined
Idling engine, alchemic purr stable
Pillow-propped, I watch you kill the Cable
Choirs of fluttering steel valves breathing
Your giddy cougar smirk, green eyes seething
In molecular rainbow oil cylinders slide
Breath hitches, greeting your satin glide
Gear-clunk, every chunky bolt abuzz
It’s our first time, same as it ever was
Fog blanket of rose exhaust roils
Fingers curl, bronze skin boils
Dancing mango-bright needles oscillate
Urgently oral diplomats reciprocate
Revved, floored – incredulous volcanic surge
Friction-forgotten plunge down to the verge
Risky whine of precision frequency
Entwined pulses reach zero latency
Synched plunge of stocky piston heads
Every nerve sits up and BEGS
Reckless noise topples aural ferocity
Star-bound, we’ve achieved escape velocity.
ExplosiveHalt hydraulic sp ut te r
Melting moans; our collapse is utter
Death of heat plus glowing motion
Cuddled down in our cotton ocean.
Shadowed
Frost leprosy, crackling grass
Chlorophyllic corpses in ranks
Stretch, strain; ocular ache
This is death's nod.
Stumps jut from ice crusts
Peg teeth gummed with sap
Papa Noel's gooey grin
This is Death's nod.
Sun's turned truculent,
Gray growlmush haunts the sky
Light hangs back from this casket
This is death's nod.
Shaved diamond flutters down
Flakes kiss Earth: poisoned,
Chewed to slush for their trouble
This is death's nod.
White rooted crypt chill
Swaying red meat locker
Sparkling friendless vacuum
This is death's nod.
Creator's Cult
Half-mad dreamers, paint-smeared as their canvases
Vault atop your head and grasp up their reins: your retinas.
Steering you through skeleton-lined mazes of perspective,
Funneling your attention, herding your awareness.
Shattered, sick psychology dropouts dressed as witchdoctors
Shove calloused fingers through your eardrums, dragging out the
basilisk-primitive you. Strumming strings, blaring brass and doom drums,
Blood shines through your skin and the built brain submerges.
Civilization's trappings slither down to pool around your ankles.
Wordsmith sorcerers cloaked in blazing arrogance hook your nose
And haul you down. “READ!” they scream,
Disdaining the reptile-brain toys of color and throbbing rhythm.
Their demands have your all bent upon their scrolls,
Forcing you through their fantasies. “My joy must be yours,
My blackest despair your own, if my spell is strong.”
From memory's sticky depths they summon up beasts and seraphim
Both, forcing your lips to flex around trochaic incantations
And blank verse cantrips. Yellowed-paper warlocks,
Transplanting your mind into theirs, or the reverse.
Across time and space they bind you, the grave meaningless;
Popular cycles ebb and flow, toppling gods and crowning beggars.
They are the Creators, but Creation is no different from the void
Without Adams and Eves to wander through it.
Chalk and Roses
Pink riots, crimson drips off every shelf
Angel
Taste it now, can't you? Cheap satisfaction
Wuv
Shell-shocked teddy bears slump, numb
Be mine
Is this a false Fête? Commercial suction?
Call me
A call for love engenders hate. Who but us?
Sweet talk
Lacklove in romance's realm rail against the blissful
Kiss me
Eat your sour grapes at home lonelyheart
Will you
Chocolate and bloodblooms or not, lovers linger
I do
The celebration of love needs no excuse
Only you