The air in the basement archives
tasted of rotted velvet and wet
copper.
A low, wet breathing synchronized
perfectly with the rhythm of your
own pulse.
Skin-bound ledgers bled dark,
viscous oil onto the warped oak
on the floorboards.
The whispers began, raspy
and toothless chanting your
true name from the shadows.
You looked down to find your
own fingers drying, flattering,
and turning into yellowed
parchment.
The emergency exit signs bled
into a deep, sickening crimson
that cast no light.
Something tall, loose- limbed,
and blind crawled upside down
across the ceiling timbers.
Every exit had vanished, replaced
by endless, towering stacks of
blank, waiting tombstones.
Needle-sharp, paper -thin claws
drove deep into your shoulders
from behind.
The entity peeled back your chest
to index your beating heart under
CLASSIFIED!.
Cristiano Ronaldo.
Born in Funchal, Madeira's archipelago.
Played for Real Madrid and Man United.
Now his flair gets Al Nassr fans excited.
Messi is Ronaldo's biggest rival,
always vying to give fans an eyeful.
With a flick and a trick,
both make football look slick,
adding awards into their archival.
Although Messi has the Ballon d'Or awards record,
no one can match the goals Ronaldo has scored.
He started as a winger, but now plays as a centre forward.
When he misses a chance he's known to scream a swear word!
On synthetic derelict stage of deception domain,
I gyrate the split mind, ensnared by bipolarity chain.
Under illusive limelight of ostentatious time,
I’m entangled in machinated invasive paradox prime.
In make-belief life’s drama I act with no compunction,
I face fabricated faces flocking redundant in conjunction.
Identity lost in conglomerate of counterfeit facades,
I don’t perform by heart's prudent prompt if it pervades.
In masquerading faces reflected in warped mirror,
I see concealed the contorted contours of rancid rancor.
With their phony pretense a conciliation role I tactfully play,
my misshapen face of spite, the actor in me doesn't portray.
Finding a fake place to subsist in pretend archival spaces,
I’m a configured antique in the museum of masked faces.
Low void on the high end
Teared fists in midst of Tears of mist
Tarried sand on the solo voyage twist
Of the cause, and still the reason
Between the terrain and the everlasting rains
An unfolded mind of upholstery
It could be ease; this life could have been easier
Only under the generalization of the new age
The barrier and frontier
And the archival of the old ages
Living a Promise, Praying a will
Will all be as is, as is seen from will,
Never to regard it therefore as a wheel ,
For it never turns as expected,
One more number added, one more increment of increase
Another appreciation to be said , another honor to manifest
A gift at hour, worth a gift in life time
Since cultivated at hour, for life or more
Less or least, west or east
Emotions are sagging beast, dwelling coast
Tag dragged to make and live you crying
Straight out the heart crawling
It wasn’t farewell , it was hope to meet in future
And a courage to lose attachment ,the desire to ignore existence.
A city up on the south bank of the Aire River,
Mossy with long 'loggy' greens,
Land-sides,flat like table tops,
Scenery,with a glance, so pretty.
Cool breeze,fresh like juiced lemonade.
Archival historical Art Gallery,
John Lewis' eye-catching towers,
Broad lanes along tall piles,
Roundish loopy ring roads;
bejeweled with shiny traffic lights.
....................My Leeds!
Yorkshire's pride...........!
A winsome English county.
Rain rushed in like a concert audience.
There’s nothing calm about Spring’s arrival.
The specter gusts regrets and survival,
Strip limbs for whips — a sore obedience.
A path cut through, a cold subservience.
The robin’s heavy breast with cheep revival.*
A rose depressed in past Spring’s archival.
Absence of warmth, enrages audience.
A sip of dandelion wine — desire
spurs wholesome cheat, complete with snowy seeds.
Remembrance of unwrinkled hands - youth’s lore,
A marshmallow on spit, and rosy fire.
Enhance the peace and love of daisy beads.
Unwind the twister’s coil, unleash Spring’s core.
3/21/2018
Greg Cornish’s Petrarchan Sonnet contest
cheep - to utter faint shrill sounds : peep, to utter a single word or sound
(from Merriam Webster dictionary) Also mimics the word “cheap”
NOT THE ARTIFACTS OF SERENDIPITY
The earth a blue planet isn’t alone in the vast cosmic space
A planetary maze the limitless depths of the universe encase.
Life’s evolution milieu isn’t perhaps a condition unique here
Why intelligent organic world won’t exist elsewhere isn’t clear.
Mysterious marvels on the earth have entered archival record
Many such perhaps lie hidden and remain yet to be explored.
Many features seem beyond the old world’s human capability
Can’t be believed to be the artifacts of unexplained serendipity.
If things have been made surely there must have been a maker
Man couldn’t make these why can’t the ancient alien space traveler.
If the descendants of the ancient aliens visit us on the earth now
They’d be surprised to see the alienated humanity in strife and row.
January 28, 2018.
The power of time travel lies
In the laughter of your eyes.
It lifts me up and takes me away
Ten years ago today.
The demons in the past
Fade pale and fast,
As we re-enter childhood
To settle in the land of ‘could’.
But I cry out in fear
For sixteen again dear,
I have a heart to give
And ten hard years to live.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 87, July 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM87COMP.pdf].
I weep, I weep, I weep;
And volunteer for long term Cryo-sleep.
If in five hundred years’ time
I am full and in my prime,
He and she will be but a dream
Imprinted upon the wall by my last scream.
At the dawn of a new day
Five centuries are dewed away.
A butterfly, I will uncurl
Open the lid, the tubes unfurl,
And over a planet I will stand
Earth’s dream at my command.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
Raindrops keep falling on my head
Long after I think I am dead;
With a chest of iron and legs of steel,
I have a body I just can’t kill.
Rain drops cover the gut in the bin,
And I am powered by a motor within.
Far cheaper than a positronic brain,
Is a ‘borg with a mind hazed by pain.
When the raindrops fell in my heart
I rose-up and tore myself apart.
They came and put me back together,
And guaranteed me to last forever.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
In the orchard
under the stars,
I have the kind of company
I never had before.
The creature I came here with
appeared to be human,
but my hands feel a scaly back,
and stiff fur pricks my chest.
A hooked beak tears at my mouth
destroying its sweetness.
Lifeless, I am encircled by claws.
I submit
believing I am doomed.
Originally published as "“Sweet seventeen and never been kissed”,
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 84, October 1994, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM84COMP.pdf].
Emotionless, the doctor applied tools.
The foetus extracted,
they wheeled her away.
Although she could not move,
and could not relieve herself,
they did not check upon her
until the next day.
The Aerobus arrived
to take her to the
nursery planet,
where she would tend her offspring;
The matriarch checking
daily, weekly,
to see that she did so.
She did not rest.
She could not heal.
But there was no help for her,
fertility was more valuable every day;
and she had resigned her rights
when she had chosen
to join the gene pool.
Better than a row of test tubes,
were these living,
breathing incubators.
Once a gift to all humanity -
part of a lost cultural phenomenon
called ‘the family’;
Reproduction was now a rarity.
Originally published as "Childbirth on a Civilised Planet"
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
As I was walkin’ down the street
I thought I saw him ahead,
I followed on trembling feet
wherever he led.
We threaded through the crowd
And entered a dark lane.
The sun blushed behind a cloud
As I leapt into his arms again.
Tear blind eyes freed my senses
To see the monster manning the trap.
I halted at the hyper-spatial fences,
Poised to take a step back...
Come, thou Demond of Delgon,
Appear as my lover again for me.
I know not where he is gone,
And I may be consumed by thee.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 85, January 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM85COMP.pdf].
When the war of worlds' was done
And the Colonists owned the sun,
The old miner from Sirius One
Gleaned the galaxy for his son.
He sought the brave boy he knew
He'd disowned in four thousand & two.
Though the surviving rebels were few,
he had word of his boy's crew.
Hurrying to the caverns of Lithmulu,
A prodigal father faced a boy in blue,
But it was too late his dream to realise,
For a parasite looked out of the wild eyes.
Originally Published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 83, July 1994, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM83COMP.pdf].
You call up and say:
“Hello, how are you today?”
I’m dead and rottin’ away,
But my droid is pretty bright,
It answers “I’m all right!”
You celebrate the bi-centennial,
And call up your oldest serving menial:
My spirit is hardly congenial,
But my droid is going strong;
It accepts congratulations from the throng.
So when all is said and done,
I’ve been dust on the floor of sub-station one
Twenty-three revolutions of the sun.
Your polite query is replied,
By the droid who inherited my pride.
Originally published:
Clarke, R. (Ed) The Mentor 87, July 1995, fanzine published by Ron Clarke, Sydney, Australia, [Archival copy available online at http://efanzines.com/Mentor/TM87COMP.pdf].
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