What lives deep within?
Which thoughts, what vitality?
For from these must we emerge,
As there is little without
Except the baleful wind
Whining across bleached dunes.
Death is a void of expression
Stark, barren, arid.
Mere rocks scoured by flash flood
Twisted and gnarled;
Gravestones of salt extrusion
From emergent times.
What life there is in Death Valley
Lives underground and waits
For night or brief rain;
But then it must express
Whatever it is, for death
Is to fail to come forth.
There are two deaths
In Death Valley:
The first is not to emerge
When that moment comes,
The second is that there is
Nothing to emerge.
I'm so flexible but I can snap.
So never push me too far.
I'm very strong but I can still break..
My strength depends on how kind you are.
I work well with my own kind..
Together we bounce off the wall.
But just like Humpty Dumpty..
I can't be repaired after a bad fall.
I am resistant to extrusion..
I can bend to accomodate most needs.
If respected I'll stretch the extra length..
And I multitask when asked with a "Please?"
I can hold many items together..
And tidy up a messy space.
My resilience will always rebound..
My versatility can suit any place.
I will always make you look good..
And give your hair a modern style.
I can help you break bad habits..
If you wear me on your wrist for a while.
You'd be surprised how many times I'm needed..
I come in many colours, styles and brands.
My abilities are absolutley endless..
Im your hard working, loyal RUBBERBAND!
i havent written anything in ages,i sit inspirationless pen hovering above blank pages
my creative juices have evaporated,i'm mentally constipated, thoughts stagnated trapped in a room thats locked and gated.My minds a black hole in which ideas evolve
but getting them out's an enigma stephen hawking could'nt solve.i'll hire an imaginary crop sprayer and take off on a sortee i'll spray my brain with laxative and wd40.But it could be too much and i'll realise my fears my brain will be crushed under a deluge of ideas,i'll go to the doctor and ask for a lotion ''sure rub some of this on your head son,it's called thousand notion potion''.my brain is like a boiler thats about to blow'i need a tiny plumber,with a tiny wrench to release it very slow,but if it breaks off too quickly,no refuge can be sought he can ski to safety on an avalanche of ideas a thinking mans olympic sport.If all my efforts fail at cerebral extrusion,then sad as it is i'm left with only one conclusion,i'll hang up my quill and pay the tiny plumbers extortionate bill.As sure as a boxer who loses his arms is no longer a fighter a poet who does not use his pen is no longer a writer
(This is not my birthday...just a "what if"
theme)
There are a thousand births like mine
in that cluster of the noosphere
the rolling earth had left behind—
where birth and death joined hands
to siphon off the heavens in a moment,
in a block of space
etched by an evanescent time.
A thousand births, a hundred years,
and altogether disappeared
as father of the father of my father
will not cause extrusion of a single tear
nor anything beyond a dusty line
of history—the earth will not look back
upon the airless cubicles, and I
may smile upon the moment
when my father smiled, and let it go.
Within that crystal box, and scarce observed
there is a breath drawn in,
another sent away...
a candle life ignited, snuffed,
to float out to the stars, unseen,
where memory is like the rising mist
that one time only
may refresh the morning air.
~
4 x 4
There you are driving ahead of me again
five foot five in your four by four.
Peroxide blonde transporter of empty baby seats
Mobile phone to your ear transmitting
More nonsensical extrusion from a shallow mind
Roundabout ahead, wrong lane, who cares!
Let’s double park at the corner shop
Check the rearview mirror, yes makeup ok
Don’t forget the hazard lights of excused abandonment
Like a disco roadblock
Dearest Vicar –
Late came the regency bells;
The voice of your acolyte:
The mezzotinted voice of the verger
Rang at last for mass extrusion.
Dearest Vicar –
We all heard the fragile peels:
All the birds of riot
Must disjoin in the new exodus
Of the new testament of single nests?
Dearest Vicar –
Confusion and uncertainty
Reigned in the hovel:
The restive communal nest.
The smog induced haze bled
acid
.
. NEON
a tie-dyed
Orange
dawn
Muffling, p h a n t o m e
. foliage
backdropping the
slllllllllli
. ddddddde
. of early R
I
S
E
R
S
through the low lying
LIMELIGHT
diffusion
extrusion
confusion.
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