Skinwalker

"Skinwalker" That one’s mind is like a scene from Chagall dreams flow like blood bleeds across the cortex page curtain call an audience with the silent speakeasy cerebellum with its swift matter-of-factness logically guides the fingers to dance across keys the amygdala paints freely expressing visions like marbled memories queens, kings, bishops, knights, castles and pawns, all in their correct and proper place across an expansive black and white chequered board drawing colour back in, injected with print now shimmering in pools music through glazed windows, what stands behind the oculus, seen barely by moths prescribing light like watching all this through watered glass the tears dropping like diamonds onto an empty dancefloor and the minefield peppered with hidden explosives code breaking symbols in short stories the orchestra calls like Stravinsky but this isn’t at all well regarded nor poetry ridding the scene of firebirds and vultures is always messy never pretty nor easy, the hungry lap their milky sentences chained to a small yard like sardonic wolves clapping brains bleating like sheep in wide open meadows flowers for the plucking owls hooting are never just owls hooting skin walking coyotes suck the marrow all out howling - they say, you can hear them oceans of lifetimes away drunk on too much iambic mojo when they want to trochaic the day away feed me your set design, they prescribe we’ll deal your sentences no need to hide, it’s all part of the play, we now have time to call it all back in and send it on its merry way out with the tide, rain rain go away a hat full of keys are thrown up in the air in abstract despair landing loosely in the water like words some are gathered before the others sink and disappear like some kind elephant's drowned lost ivories the power all wasted now buried treasure in the music that some waxing lyrical never hear above the falsetto bravado covering the panacea, safe harbour was left long ago pale spines never transfigure tusk-like but the sands of time harden all as they fossilise and life pounds the bones of it all into Bex powders headaches disappear and eventually are taken off the market Picasso brushes the pounding heart, colours it buck naked rose softly sensually stripped au naturel throbbing prelude cadence exposed now the sharp shards scooped up then swallowed like a true native thoughts and words like sweet and sour candies juicy cherries straight from the bleeding red centred heart crimson claret and burgundy a ripened jubilee taken in solitarily, then spat from the mind across hands they are pinned like blue morpho to wall the fingers continue to spin Morpheus away tapping away tap tap tapping away the 5 points like a star then stall splayed like heathens they are recalcitrant and pointing bones in the darkness of a cave leaving signatures in unwashable waves reflection L'Oiseau bleu arrives on the echolocation walls marked to save cognitive bluebirds while barefoot outside wings the deep one strange gadaidja featherfoot landing softly with a thud now walks across sharp rocks all waiting like hungry sharks in the retrograde shallows serenaded by effusive chirping cicadas, pimms, thinly sliced cucumber trifles, mud men and croaking frogs (LadyLabyrinth / 2022) “Crossing the Rubicon”/ Anoushka Shankar https://youtu.be/OUUWUh5lnvw Stravinsky: "The Firebird" Suite (1919 version) (with Score) https://youtu.be/HDqR1qHLKEc Chagall https://www.marcchagall.net/ Metzinger https://jeanmetzinger.art/ "L'Oiseau bleu" https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Oiseau_bleu_(Metzinger) Picasso https://www.pablopicasso.org/ "Bluebird"/Bukowski https://mypoeticside.com/poets/charles-bukowski-poems https://pediaa.com/what-is-the-difference-between-iambic-and-trochaic https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurdaitcha final edit. 25/07/2022