Best Starched Poems

 
"At the Seat of the Catacombs of Amygdala"



 
"...the curse ruled from the underground down by the shore
And their hope grew with a hunger to live unlike before..." The Curse



Violet Black the night is still 
diving through oceans 
of stars now waking
violins soaring in...

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"Snowflakes Melting before the Diadem"

Winter is coming
and what then?
the dreams frozen 
snowflakes falling
we succomb 
tongues out waiting 
for manna, 
pills swallowed
for the diadem
needles of pine
instead of thorns
bedded,

the sweet sleep 
is coming, 
slowly it cajoles
swiftly it comes

the folded corners
sheets tucked in
the safety barrs 
raised, just so,
the...

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"The Epiphany Rose"

All well and good,
the story unfolds;
the isolating madness 
drew out the poets 
in all the shunned
playing up and out 
their origami
word games

something like 
an epiphany rose
in them, the mad,
recalcitrant ones,
like nuns leaving 
the genuflecting aisles
turning backs 
before all their 
starched alters
dripping idols 
no...

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Thoughts that thrive on scattered dreams
shoot through the mind like laser beams
Hunger echoes a hollow song
Voices merge, intestines long
Lips are dry, and tongues are parched
Memories are pressed and starched
No miming board can take the heat
Hot irons that scorch the hands and feet.

Cold days flow into...

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It don’t mean a thing
When there’s no bling, bling, bling
No gold adornment or diamond ring.
A brother buying Rolex
In clothes starched and well pressed
Never notices the sister
Selling jewelry to eat.

Yet,
Praise God for the sons of Adam
Made in the image divine
Say “bones of my bones, flesh of...

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Serging through life, I whipstitch, weft, and welt,
But always, my thoughts are pick-threading.

As stippled patches of emotion rise and fall in me,
See me, feel me, touch me, heal me
Just too many scars.

The mindless mind stresses itself through mental snares,
I waste away beneath it all, piecing...

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I have caressed
in coffin draped hugs
those who defended me,
hung limply as taps
and tears flowed
across generations.
Known the thrill
of fireworks and jubilation
rose, full faced,
in sundrenched
wind starched glory.
Wept in “half staffed” darkened loneliness
as horse drawn carriages
moved through silenced crowds.
I am neither a cause
nor a solution
but a symbol
of our...

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Music echoes through the halls,
climbing stairs, and gilded walls.
Our lovely lass discreetly swoons. 
With longing eyes, she scans the room.

Young ladies dressed, in gowns, divine,
are coifed, and rouged and powdered fine.
Their dancing partners, starched, refined,
drink them in like precious wine.

A rhythm, now, she can't define,
has...

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Invitations to the Gala
issued by a grave impala
were highly sought out missives 
by the bold and the submissive 
Those omitted uttered curses
shook angry fists or heavy purses
Had they but known that
the price of  admission
was not by stealth nor definition;
would it have improved their disposition?
Oh...

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Redemption 
She slowly uncoiled her gray streaked hair that fell to her waist. She removed her 
spectacles to see more clearly the windswept icy snow clinging to the branches. A 
pause, settling something deep within; then her gaze shifted to me.
I reached out, but found...

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He was young, small, perhaps malnourished
Looking out from deep set eyes, rimmed with neglect
I could see, he wanted ...
To know why?
To know what? ... I did not know.

I sensed he was trying to form the words
And the questions in his mind
The words did not form...

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Am I hideous 


So many years have drained,
slowly taking what was once mine
scattering it over endless thoughts and memories
and I wonder why, where has it all gone?
Silver finds locks once dark,
muscles speak in much louder tones

Sleep is something of youthful moments
and nightmares wrap me where...

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Like bullet holes in a starched white shirt,
they prop the gravestone in the dirt,
a ruby stitch across the face
of veined pale marble carapace.

They held my gaze that winter day,
beneath black clouds with streaks of grey,
the wind howled for the distant dead,
ice crystals bit the greatcoat...

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1. Refrain (Unwound)

Her song, it never played
Coal sack black stitching frayed
Lead the familiar thread
Lined coffin living dead
To the beat how we march
Funeral shirt ready starched

2. Hush now...

...never played, never played
Her song, a hollow stain
It haunts the silence
Whispers invade the rain
A constant ache, a constant pain

3....

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"Who Put Luebella down the Wych Elm?"

There are rumours
about me, some 
come seeking me
with their geiger counters
and ouji boards
with their heart 
shaped planchettes

unanswered questions
in the woods, crackling
within the sounds of leaves
invisible dead things speaking 
underfoot white noise
boxes that ghosts 
are meant to genuinely
speak through 

radio...

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