The Jar of Poems
The Jar of Poems
I open the jar of poems like a bottle of hot whiskey burning bright,
Obsessions and loves writhe like cigarette smoke in my veins flowing,
The poet's whispers crude and direct a course of love in four muted acts,
We laugh blue like ink spilled on the transparent opaque window pane.
I swallow the heavy silence like a bitter sweet shot that burns my ice,
I put burned spring in my frozen steps of the bush of faded colors,
Season crucified floating on the sea of recovery lost forever more,
The weeping cheerful brushes spill their tears of fire on leaves of ice.
The frowning smiling clouds mock gently the horoscope of dead days,
Joyful test infernal of the tired heart full of endless energy boundless,
Surgeon of emotions healing wounds with the scalpel that tears bright darkness,
Concert for two solitary symphony of love with rebellious domesticated locks.
Stellar earthly amalgams smell of stars of earth and cosmic mud mixed,
Drawings come to dead life on the dusty polished sidewalk by footsteps,
Breath becomes solid freckle helium heavy thoughts floating in the high abyss,
Tangram of crazy serene silences puzzle of existence complete and shattered.
Each piece of noisy silence fitted wrong in the ordered daily chaos,
The spiriverse carries us immobile universe of psychospirituality breathing suffocating,
Universe that breathes dead and lives disappearing through each hard soft rhyme,
Healing venom sold for free at the corners of straight and bent life's paths.
Radio that suspends screaming its melody in the corner of talkative silence's mouth,
Lights struggling peacefully to exit inward from the shining darkness deep,
Words parked galloping at the traffic light of destiny without precise direction,
Death has the white color of black chestnuts the dream becomes exile at home.
The realm of hidden revelation helium lead thoughts that fall rising up,
The galaxy sleeps awake in an octave of love without musical notes playing,
Universe for us two alone together in the crowd of the full wasteland,
Universe that waits disappearing to be discovered covered in each verse written.
Long short night the poet's whispers crude gentle and direct bent inward,
Spilled dried ink bitter sweet shot swallowed rejected by the open throat,
The weeping laughing brushes the frowning serene clouds clap their hands,
The tired vigorous heart rebellious combed locks stellar earthly amalgams formed.
The dusty washed sidewalk crazy lucid silences the harmonious daily chaos,
Hard soft rhyme the lessons flow stopping like the healing venom sold,
At the round straight corners of life thoughts like liquid iron filings,
Each piece of noisy silence fitted wrong perfectly in the undone puzzle.
Smell of rotten fresh stars drawings come to dead living life on walls,
Breath becomes liquid solid freckle tangram of crazy and serene silences,
The jar of poems closes opening the whiskey spills back into itself,
And we laugh blue red like ink that returns to the mute poet's pen.
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