At sunset, orange frescos on the west wall
Sink gradually into the bowels of hills flung
By distant wavelengths of a backward illusion,
Which yells silently at concupiscent terns,
Yodelling and returning from carnivals of the
Wild. From the faint glow, a rainbow stretches
For a cuddle, musing over a curious world,
Ditched by diaphanous tarradiddles of the odd.
Shadows on ground level travel on painted
Tars, recreating their bosoms on surfaces
Raven-black and soot-framed.
Seagulls welcome waves in one cracked voice,
Honking the horns of billed staccato.
Among able-bodied patterns of bituminous tracks,
Rivers, ponds, pools seek their faces on sun-flushed
Mirrors, which laugh at their fatuous inclinations
Mired by the sputum of drained rains.
The cage creaks upward.
The ancient Otis,
ascends slowly from a first floor past.
He dreams on...
Outside the remembered apartment
the fat round nipple of the doorbell
reminds him of her -
Rosy Holroyd,
who once, without being asked,
shoved one of her large **** into his mouth.
He punches the doorbell with a flat thumb,
imagines her undressing,
getting those ample bosoms warmed up.
No response from behind the door!
He feels disorientated and foolish
as the dream once again sinks his hopes.
The cage creaks
as it jolts downward through decades.
Alone in the elevator; gradually awakening,
his lips open and purse
like a lonely goldfish.
THE WAKE WITHOUT VIGIL
Time longer than rope
Chokes hearts dangling
In the reality of struggle:-
Grieving mothers and widows
Veil their grief in sagging bosoms
As they wail in excruciating silence:-
Fragments of men, void of hope,
View and count communal graves
Swelling with dirt burying the dead:-
(Buried are “The Wretched Of The Earth”)
In the neap tides of sorrows,
Mourners wade the airy blood
Of the children of Pilate’s hands:-
In the stale winds of time, “woe is me”
Cries the forsaken land–lamenting scriptures—
Echoing Freneau: “They saw their country’s woe:-”
Stacked like molded bread slices,
Decaying bodies release spores
Of death to weary eyed mourners:-
Like an aching bosom’s colloidal tears,
Life sags on, and Sisyphus-like children
Sit under the warrior ghost of lingering hope:
(Indeed, “At this wake…none keep vigil…None:-”)*
*A line from the poem, RECESSION, by Wole Soyinke
Images from a cogged box.
A camera reveals
hips and ankles, ribbons
decorously draped
over a contrived modesty.
An artist has added a color tint,
their cheeks are rosy,
their lips red,
a patchwork of painted glow.
Half revealed bosoms flush and bloom.
Pauses in an upper room.
A warm lamp licks,
feathers and brocade are adjusted.
The girls choreograph
next moves.
A gentleman photographer
toggles knurled brass knobs
throws a veiling drape over
his head and mind.
The models are beyond
this moments capture,
they are sealed by silence,
yet their images,
their one-act legacy,
is an amber inclusion
raised up as a photograph
for all to admire in secret.
Time longer than rope
Chokes hearts dangling
In the reality of struggle:-
Grieving mothers and widows
Veil their grief in sagging bosoms
As they wail in excruciating silence:-
Fragments of men, void of hope,
View and count communal graves
Swelling with dirt burying the dead:-
(Buried are “The Wretched Of The Earth”)
In the neap tides of sorrows,
Mourners wade the airy blood
Of the children of Pilate’s hands:-
In the stale winds of time, “woe is me”
Cries the forsaken land–lamenting scriptures—
Echoing Freneau: “They saw their country’s woe:-”
Stacked like molded bread slices,
Decaying bodies release spores
Of death to weary-eyed mourners:-
Like an aching bosom’s colloidal tears,
Life sags on, and Sisyphus-like children
Sit under the warrior ghost of lingering hope:
(Indeed, “At this wake…none keep vigil…None:-”)*
*A line from the poem, RECESSION, by Wole Soyinka
Timeless Union
At sunrise,
gazing out the window,
the sky bathed in its
reddish-orange hues,
as the sun
and the full moon
shared the sky.
My bare arms
cradled your bosoms,
like the sky
embracing both
the moon and the sun.
When my tender lips
gently pressed behind your ear,
the warmest of my breaths
awakened shivers in you.
Gracefully, we swam
with gentle motion,
rolling and breaching,
like humpback whales
on an arduous migration,
yearning for love’s embrace,
culminating in an exquisite
timeless union.
ka~rum
As the sun emerged from its slumber,
lifting the veil of night.
The frost melted,
and awakened the flowers and leaves.
Nectar began to flow,
spreading its fragrance around,
bees and butterflies
danced around the bloom.
Male birds built their nests,
and the mates arrived.
Warmed by the tender rays of the sun,
I turned to a gentle breeze
and came by your side.
Whispered love into your ears
and held your cheeks in my hands,
drawing you close,
and savored the nectar of your lips.
In your nape, I paused,
and filled around your neck,
between the bosoms
and on the frosty tips,
the whirlpool and hidden depths,
leaving traces of my essence.
As I brushed your feet
and moved away,
my gaze lingered only on you.
But you never knew,
and you never heard,
the melody sung by this gentle breeze.
To you, it was just a fleeting breeze,
while I carried the weight of love.
ka~rum
Friends follow the fraternal advice of a bosom friend.
The disciples followed each word of Jesus till the end.
As birds and beasts, on divine providence, they did depend
Kingdom's sake, like adventurers, all pains they did transcend
Clasping to their bosoms, with divine love, they healed the sick.
Raising the dead, as though waking the sleeping, was no trick.
Lepers were cleansed. Demons, like leaves in storms, did quickly flick.
God's kingdom, like a classic castle, was built brick by brick.
Like rain from above, they gained well-being and elation.
Freed from mammon's hold, they obtained divine revelation.
Bound in grace, physique, and psyche, attained transformation.
Spun in faith, they realised body-soul integration.
The heaven of existence they found in Jesus alone
Like seeds of spring in fertile fields, graces in them was sown.
Sand dunes erode away the meadows,
sunflowers turn to a shade of red,
sanguinary pool of limbs and skulls,
let’s swim here for the taste of the hue.
Burgundy pyramid upside down mini top,
spinning vortices of moon dust afloat,
the door opens, inside a hawk faced man,
he promises to tell me a story if I listen.
A large serpentine worm weaves bores,
pits on this apple of crimson skin,
a thick heavy glaze of caramel epoxy,
sold to the highest bidder in the fine coat.
Suspended I am trapped inside the terra firma,
innards flee rib cage, empty chest cavity hollow,
for my pulsate will be our guide back home,
grasp my staff waving follow me, there’s candy.
Elitist woman saw me and in that moment,
hourglass salt spun for her carrying six bosoms,
heaved for me as she moaned honey pleas stop,
I almost regretted drowning her and the twins.
I dreamt I was in a church,
I was walking up to the candlelit altar.
There were clergy garbed in vestments,
whether they were Catholic or Episcopal,
I don't recall.
A mourning Mass was about to begin.
I approached an open small mahogany coffin,
an infant lost to abortion was lying in it,
instead of the bassinet it deserved to be
born into.
I placed my hand tenderly on the
lacy-robed babe.
Suddenly, the baby stirred and came to life,
gently cooing as many babies do.
The Life Dream,
sweet omnipresent Christ,
our prayers for unborn and born children.
Your infants of the ages,
of the earth's mother's receiving bosoms.
Our sorrows become our joys,
we saved through Your grace-
more of Your precious ones today. ~
I am the bonnie bird of hope,
That lives in brawny bosoms deep.
And flies up the steep mountain slope,
That rises into unknown skies deep.
I peck the shadowy doubts away
In the dappled shade of woods deep.
For fortitude and strength I pray
That rises into unknown skies deep.
I flutter in bowls of joy small
And on thorny branches I sleep,
Safe in God's love and care of all
That rises into unknown skies deep.
I am the bonnie bird of hope,
That rises into unknown skies deep.
Conceptual paralysis
Hot wired matrix
delusional her hereditary mono-glide
Diet tried smokers cough
Apocalyptic pop-tart
Disappoint a trend of the needy
You gave it back
Watching the watcher
You had a laugh
The diamond left its mount
The horse shouted out rude names
The map of life is on your palm
Testing your attention to see if you're real
The missing songs sang of castles walls
Paradox of building with sand
Next government field trip
Not no fun no fake-ness in the bosoms
Season's as her bounty
The streets of all our passion
People fill in the spaces
Kill in weird places
How can you no care,
Silently demanding
Glamorous outstanding
Electric compassion is who ate her
Was never far from anticipation
The dream loses fire once a foot has felt
More than the pain and shock of lost desire
My vast maiden,you inspire me to write,
How I love the way you talk,walk and look,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the reaping hook,
Let me compare you to a splendid spoon,
Your are more gorgeous,elegant and big,
Great sun heats the blended peaches of June,
And summertime has the sycamore fig,
How do I love you?let me count the ways,
I love your epic bosoms,lips and eyes,
Thinking of your supple lips fills my days,
My love for you is the lovely joys.
Now I must away with a major heart,
Remember my fine words whilst we're apart.
O warrior Mars of brooding blood-red eyes,
Earth is seized of thy Martian heritage,
Bleeding bosoms and endless wars on rage,
Cut war bravado to what suits thy size.
We guess from far, our fancy taking flight,
Maybe, it's thy soil that looks a bit red
That portrays thee a war monger to dread,
One day the light of truth might set this right.
Ye inspire us Olympian heights to reach,
The day we come, embrace thee, breast the truth,
We’ll know, thou hast better than wars to preach,
Martian warriors—a decadent old tooth!
We hope, ye can some form of life sustain,
That, the two neighbours are friends not in vain.
__________________________________________
Sonnet | 04.08.2012, recast July 2023|
As buried seeds that germinate
We one day from the graves will rise
All life this fear devoured our hearts
All life we paid this scenery's price
Oh that this day thee I can find!
Oh that Thou come with airy wing!
All broken dreams un-cherished hopes
In carts with angels there I bring
Leave not thy supplicants in lurch
By Time: Thy all mankind in loss
Will thou them Doomsday' resurrect?
From Serat- Road can we all pass?
Oh guide us unto channels right
So that Thy hells bridge we can cross
Those who pined for Thy Meccan hills!
Those who bore in their hearts Thy pain!
may they hope for Thy paradise?
Can they Thy Eden there regain?
We all need Thy mercy My Lord!
Thou who on hell and heaven reign
How can we grumble at our fate?
How thus from Thee can we complain?
All things will perish But we know
Thy Beauteous face there will remain
With burning hearts with eyes downcast
With grieves that aching bosoms press
Those who searched Thee in callous world?
For those who left thus issue less?
What Thou for all these souls have thought?
Will them Thou from Thy Treasures bless?
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