Sirens plucked from the deep
Beauty encased in desert
Iris of the storm
Tag: poetry
Coagulus Guile
Calm to form blockade
We swole and swell to slow leak
Keep in the goodness
Solcolm
The automatic
The ultra rabid
The darkening
Steps beyond the veil
Count a thousand
Perspective shatter
Eye’s glass cage trimmed
Iris spills into space
A split yolke
Infiltrating psychic realm
Forgotten Dissemination
Soldiers forget their poetry log
Petals crushed and pressed for reminder
Solemnity lost in iced fog
Congregations lose all sense of meaning
Scivandry
Avoids eye contact
Shuffles uncomfortably
Look at what we have
Man too scared to think
Gentleman knocked off balance
From mere suggestion
Orange glue
“FUCK YOU”
The words form, solid and buoyant. A rusty chrome.
I cradle the words and lay them down into a thick woven fabric.
They deserve to be tied up with in a bow like a present.
They hop up and climb into a sewer tube.
They run round thinking about the sun.
They try to remember what buttons are made of. Plastic or wood?
Thousands of peasants die and fall into the sewers.
The words feast on the corpses and grow strength.
They rocket into the atmosphere and shatter the stratosphere.
Glass falls on tongues like snow and lacerate the digestive tracts.
SUDDEN-DEATH
“Close your eyes and hold out your hand”
Into it I drop fifty grand
“So why the suspicious gift, friend?”
“Fifteen seconds, our lives will end”
Your eyes widen, filled with despair
Rips in the sky begin to tear
“This whole charade was a big tease?”
The airbourne flames kill you with ease
shine
the skulls like roman emperors
them empty sockets cant remember us
hitch a ride from a half drunk eskimo
get a blowjob from figure skater flo
think bout the last time we had coffee
wonder bout the next time we’ll be jolly
you’d like to read a book but don’t think you can
just pick it up give a page a scan
In the future we will never read again
open our minds put the words in them
we waste our time waiting for a machine
so all our brains are all squeaky clean
ending spirits with a mighty glug
could we stop drinkin if we found the plug?
self defeat, no more than a hobby
cyclical, no ending, probably.
Mortor from Chamel
Rinsing social blade
Having a burger in daylight
Filling up balloons
Something fishy
Have a cake dear boy
It will calm your nerves big time
Surprise little champ
You have now become
Extra special salmon cakes
The transformation
From a man to fish
From fresh to salt back to fresh
Reproduce and die
A sentient snack
Drizzled in lemon drizzle
How fantastic you
