Heart
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"Heart"
Deep fissures formed
in the cracks of
the nowhere place
where time leeched
bleeding claret
through the green
veined blues
protean bit by bit
the flesh disappears
prematurely 6ft under
mulch for rebirth
the subcontinent
conscientious conscience
inward reaching
the divine central tableau
revels in its simple existing
the complexity suspended baulks
at the easy third person present
floating in time ephemeral
watching the essence of the exterior;
a haunting numb life dies
disappearing
between the cracks
of all the bland stitched-up walls
forget-me-nots lie in their beds
smug little darlings all murdered
transactional yet unnegotiated
unconditional, contracted
ad infinitum verbatim
far beyond the zone superficial
the exotic intoxicating unpicked
transforms fluidity, the anima pets
the purring animus, caged creatures
what was broken grows
flowing in the elixir substance of
the living thing inside
bursting black balloons
poetry like rosary beads
slightly touched,
fed to the monsters
now fuelled wild and obedient
by the silky pomegranate seeds
they are elated in the Lawrence forest
hugging trees
they, magnetic
to angels and demons
now walking naked
with Puck wetted eyelids
reach for the honey
dripping off leaves
to dew her orbs upon the green
each a delicious bitter sweet story
swallowed like an ecstasy dream
unconquered the id remains
captivated circling errors inside
The Caim - surrounded
by bludgeoned bad memories
drowned in sacrificial chalices
crumbling cities war conquered
dark love dramatique
le revolver poétique devient
de mieux en mieux
justice blooms undomesticated
irreverence fertilised by indifference
to other bolshevists' chapters mingling
mime each other existing tight framed
laced up in their well-rounded whole boxes
conferring their pegged disapproval,
the petulant lamenting loons
chase the wood peckers,
lyrebirds and sparrows, then,
stray to the safety of edges,
guarding their rites open mouthed forsooth
shocked, shooting arrows
or suffocating the Arden smoke rings,
like terror-forming
earth bound paper tigers
their soft vitriols relevant
to cementing the outside jungle
they prey reeling the kneeling hunters in
lotus feet bound,
they remain, small and kept
like another’s property
they are reviewed and red
bleeding each a sentence
barred between margins
wooden framed willow-the-wisps
addictive furloughs
digress mute and grand mall
deadly sin-binned dopamine
smiling dandelions
raising their petals
like skirts to the sky,
bearing their marooned gashes
wounds kamakaze missions
welcoming poison-tipped swords, then,
falling shy in the moment
of golden turning the
pain egresses, resurrection is
ardently invested in the duality
under blankets blowing all their swollen pages
like layered petticoats saged
with the cream of inverted wisdom
kissing hems of sacred mothers
from the interior a vision
scryed in a ponderous mirror
like ensconced Delphi
waving words mystic witch
the most valuable thing undressed,
whose onyx thoughts turn
exotic ermine tongue velvet tipped
to thumb the dexterous
man-eating succulent fruit
all the corsetted strings come undone
chords planchette, automatic, sprouting a new view
underneath the fissures
buried deep in the soil
of it all, evolution
like a personal revolution grew
dear dark shadows
best left undressed
and Donne raw
when the tears hit
the falling brown spaces
spooning in between
the simplicity of a fresh reign
the dazzling shoots expel soft bullets
unfurling eyes schizophrenic
sewn needles in haystacks
found in prim rows prose roses
Nin arrives climaxing
the Narnia stories
to climb anonymity's tower notoriously
held like a slick sword psalmed and reloaded
character climbs the warrior pole
clinging to cells like seductive ivy
borne again green Eve eyed naive
cruxed unmercifully
to bloom blushing
fresh and pink
open on display
swords like scissor-tongues cut
and graze, unnecessarily speaking
whisper the Lilith in, blunt and non-refined
until they hit the sun
what’s unkempt inside
burns slowly
and in the middle
of it all a splash
of colour the
shade of carnage
calls in sweet
crimson peaks
all her versions
of read, finger-licked
fertile pages provocative
of a new season
turning
bursting through
the blue azure
veined purple
royal,
missing,
dressed in camouflage,
the unseen
heart
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
"Rome is not outside me, but inside me.
Her feverish sweetness,
her tragic countryside,
her own beauty and harmony,
all these are mine,
for my thought and my work"
Modigliani
Copyright © Lady Labyrinth | Year Posted 2022
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