"Rolled Oats"
Age shall not weary
trolls counting strange fruit
golden apples rolled
Lord Laden put to sleep
on an alter Hippomenes
there Atalanta lights a candle
underneath the dry rot
Ovid’s oracle prophecy not far wrong
3 golden apples racing along
Hippomenes
strange addiction was outshone
the race never to be won
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
I jumped a bit when the hearse was slammed.
My bones were brittle, and I felt quite damned.
My flesh was starting to gray up, it gave a laugh.
My eyes were sinking, and I felt a draft.
She’s not in there, someone assured my kin.
I knew it was true because of the shape I was in.
I had been confused at the onset of death of course.
I was still angry as hell at that run-away horse!
Can I see her one last time? A familiar voice said.
I was horrified. I did not want this guy to see my body dead.
NO! I yelled NO! But did they hear me? Of course not.
They opened it up and he yelled “She has some dry rot!”
I hate you I said. Get out of my face. You are a worm.
I saw him flinch, back up, scream, and finally squirm.
Don’t let anyone else see me this way! I told the undertaker.
But of course, he did not listen, that sneering give me a hand shaker.
How many more times are you going to open this hearse and lid?
Why don’t you just toss me in the street? I asked my Uncle Sid.
They put me in a hearse and whisked me away in the night.
I was relieved when I saw angels and headed straight toward the light.
Fragile as alabaster white dry as your sin
so sweet I want to caress to cradle and suffocate.
I feel that dry course texture of alabaster
and sin, the skin you are in, I feel the sand in my teeth…
The tang of its bitter taste the smell of parchment
dry as desolations rage, I recoil at the touch of your alabaster skin.
I feel the bones without and within brittle as suicide of time you sit with that sinister grin n that hellacious light in you inner eyes, spin!
I figure you are the one to be waiting before the son with the blade as sharp and keen slicing your alabester skin.
Slicing away your dry fragments of sin I keep it all in the dry rot of my mind the turn of my stomach
I want to cress and suffocate…
Your candlelight…
The lies that the eyes tell, that watch me caressing your delicate skin all alabaster and white dry as stone and l...
Fragile as alabaster white dry as your skin
so sweet I want to suffocate all, within!
as fragments of you drift
over and around
like the sand
thought
the hourglass…
Alabaster Skin
unfathomable
all contact lost
beyond reach of umami
petulance 'tis impenetrable
sonar blips blubbed, unopened as dead mail
pings re-echoed dispelled, quashed
peripheral smiles cast-off in scows
shipwrecked eyes lashed with umbilical sighs
all at sea, adrift hand-paddling
willy nilly circling in coracle cradle corral
round and round the driftwood dry-rot
spins in whirlpool hole, nebula black
awaken not stirred the cast-away
alights from sleep alone, prone and dripping wet
self-marooned, ring-fenced on atoll beach
in cuckoo's nest
On A White Stool
You know there is no turning around,
no pausing in any way, because the path to the woods,
where the sky demons make their homes,
has been flooded by the blue rivers there,
which flow by like glaciers on fire,
with life clinging to the whims of God almighty,
we first saw the downcast stares of fear,
made while sitting straight-backed on a white stool,
your troth of insanity, your refusal to bend or talk,
but it keeps going forward, this life, that never ceases to teach,
never decides to open the windows
when the blustery news reaches forth
from the darkest place downstairs beneath the dry rot.
I'm Bald headed-have piss yellow teeth
don't use balm or whiteners to appear young again
every scar is a jagged path to a novella called living.
Cursed and blessed with a good heart
wild horse temperament that's bucked most riders off.
Loyal to a fault for the few who've stuck it out
through all the ups and downs.
I could blow out of here at any time
but for now everything's just fine..
I've crash landed on a cay of calm..
Quite proud that I've made it this far
more than half way to a hell, oft mistaken as a star
At times slipping into the murky waters of mundane,
just another battered face rooting through a discount bin
Always on the fringe of a spinning tassel of content
Everywhere there's mounds of glitter glued to plastic bags.
covering up the dry rot-I've no interest in any of that
Shocking I can pull it together at a funeral
but not when I'm putting down a pet-
I want to be a whirling dust devil
outside this hollow town
not inside the plastic masks
of all the dead hearted clowns.
You've been told.
Dirty laundry doesn't go on Facebook especially if
You don't want to get caught.
This was cold
By a thousandfold
You two blocked a family member from a family
Function. Then when confronted lied and tired to
Cover it up as an afterthought.
You've been told
Running your mouth about family and friends on
The internet will get you scolded.
You got what you sought.
This was cold
Your souls to the devil you sold.
When you took time from a family member who
Suddenly died and the person you blackballed
Is over wrought.
You've been told
Family is more precious than gold.
The sad part is you guys now have lost all of
Your family on this stupid plot.
This was cold
There is no way for her to be cajoled.
You both are filled with dry rot.
You've been told.
This was cold.
In the land someone forgot
I found my Camelot
On a cal-de- sac on a corner lot
In a tree filled plot.
It's my beauty spot.
Probably to a lot
It doesn't look all that hot
Even with blooming forget me nots.
This place has oak trees that have over shot
The driveway some what.
I am thankful there is no dry rot
In the place I bought.
I will plant apricot
And kumquat
Trees in the back of my lot.
The coyotes, eagles, owls, boars, hawks,
Turkeys, and so much more all come for
A visit to the land someone forgot
That I bought.
It's no wonder this place has my heart.
Who would of thought?
This baseball diamond was what I sought.
LES MISERABLE
Leslie was happy was Les
Bought himself a sweet little des res
Though it’s quaint it’s got
A bad case of dry rot
Les now miserable, his res ain’t so des
here i am in the flesh
no victim levelled in scope
22 catches im cashing
not selling the dope
i watched the sunrise
used to pray sometimes
kids thatd played outside
tho fate did seem unkind
chased a better understanding
even struck with fear
i snuck the beer
tried to duck my peers
i followed a different meter
nothing a solid measure
chosen to conquer pressure
everything a destresser
heart holding me hostage
molted to honest
i bolted the hardest
when the weather was modest
a mouse a giant in microns
goodbye to those by gones
dont question my sigh wrong
my glance isn't sidelong
grapple like pyslocke
i baffle this time slot
id raffle what i got
if the apple had dry rot
a value subjection
the cowl of perfection
the now in dissection
with an owls direction
i mirrored reflections
considered my being
chose service of special
situations im seeing
putting words to the onset
throwing curves in a concept
praise a merge of the object
from curse to the prospect
Puzzled by your measured liftime,
Much confusion you equate,
Knowing, as you grasp a lifeline,
Schedules show a drowning date.
Set upon by weeds and thickets,
Shuttered windows hide the veiw.
Then to find out-dated tickets,
Missed events concerning you.
Sit and mull this worn location,
Weakened walls that lean askew.
Houses' weary avocation,
Fighting Dry Rot seeping through.
Lived a life with doubts it happened,
Births and deaths and in-betweens.
Witness to a chaos bastion
Passers-by would deem serene.
Ghosts, convinced they still are living
Fool themselves with false vignettes.
Soon the messengers will give them
Peaceful crossing to their death.
Gene Bourne
06-08-14
.
love is so hard to requite
when sin has killed desire
where there was once a desprite need
now the smoke of an extinguished fire
the empire where there was a throne
that sparkled with streets of gold
crumbled into disrepair
a slum of dry rot, mildew and mold
love was an idol truely a god to behold
a million promises to ones self
over and over told
dilusions of grandure
and hopes that lured the way
a blindness created
that explained iniquities away
an unselfish giving as love would endure
a life style of living
with a dream soundly secured
writen in stone this thing so pure
proteceted by my love so sure
until that day... until that day
yet i have never stoped loving you
with all my power
i cannot pause my affection
for one single hour
mine is to suffer endlessly
and to never forget your name
from this day forward
I'll always feel the same
i'll always take you back
no matter what you do
it's a given fact
that i'll always love you
no matter what you are to me
you'll always have my heart
no matter what you do to me
you'll always own a part
so with this wounded heart
i still give my life to you
with a foolish heart
i swear my love to you
love is so hard to requite
when sin has killed desire
where there was once a desprite need
now the smoke of an extinguished fire
the empire where there was a throne
that sparkled with streets of gold
crumbled into disrepair
a slum of dry rot, mildew and mold
love was an idol truely a god to behold
a million promises to ones self
over and over told
dilusions of grandure
and hopes that lured the way
a blindness created
that explained iniquities away
an unselfish giving as love would endure
a life style of living
with a dream soundly secured
writen in stone this thing so pure
proteceted by my love so sure
until that day...