My
core
eludes
convinced I’m
under a moonspell’s
magnetic pulse anchored within
across bossa nova sambas strummed on nylon strings
luminous is this moonflower’s white petals contrast the deeming darkness
under a saudade of stars symmetry an opus pleasant to the ear, there in lateral
is my b u r i e d s o u l in s o i l so l o v e ’s d e e p s t e m s s t e a m ~
into sweet fragrance lingering in dawn’s ensemble, I its exhibit an external bloom only at night’s crescent-lit grace, strands of opalescent pearls, jewels face up, yet my thirst is still unquenched,
e a c h
n
i
g
h t a r
e
n
e
w a l
If your parts need to impress
Make them out of ABS
Or if they need to be tough and cheap
Make them out of Poly ‘Peep’
If they need to be really strong
Parts should be moulded in Nylon
And if that’s not enough to pass
You might want to add some glass
When they need to be clear not opaque
You could use Polycarbonate
But if its Cola that you see
It could be made from PET
And if your bottle has a sporting theme
Its likely made from Polythene
Now you know them its fantastic
Never specify………Just Plastic
Spooked wheels Jamming
Hot sauce vibbing
Waste land Popping
Edge space shaping
Indigo Spreading
Liminal roasting
Nylon sliding
Questions arising
Spooked Wheels Jamming
Hot Sauce Vibbing
Waste Land Popping
Edge space Shapping
Indigo Spreading
Liminal Roasting
Nylon Sliding
Questions arising
Wave lengths coliding
Silence echoing
A cock and a hen held a party
It caused chaos in the farm yard
Billy bull and a cow began mating
Of course it inspired this silly bard
A crafty spider wanted to join them
From her web spun with nylon not silk
But she wouldn’t drink at the party
And declared “I’m allergic to milk”
A piggy wig said, “I’ll lead the dancing”
But quite soon piggy began to wail
When a nasty old goat butted in
And spitefully pulled piggy’s tail
The noise from the barn was horrendous
Farmer Fred heard the cow loudly mooing
He dashed in with his pitchfork and rifle
Billy bull and the cow ceased their screwing!
Farmer Fred arrives, puce in the face
He asks, “Who arranged this soiree”?
The sneaky spider pointed all 8 fingers
Soon the fowl hosts lie dead in the hay!
The farmer starts to reload his rifle
All the party animals quickly disperse
The farmer’s wife cooks the fowl in the oven
And this is the end of this witty verse
Watch me
Watch me as i walk around.
Your eyes see one, your brain sees another.
Watch me as you fantasize, i might consider.
Sitting up higher to get a profound view.
Watch me as you lead yourself southbound.
Get a little closer to really imagine what’s against the nylon.
Watch me as i lead your eyes into the little room, boiling from the heater.
Keep me quiet like your perfect secret.
As i trace my fingers along the edge.
Watch me as your glue adorned my cheeks.
You grew just by touching me, my skin.
Watch me as i catch you dreaming.
Question you about what you were thinking.
Make me get on my knees like a preacher.
Watch me as i make your fantasies come true.
Watch me as you make me yours.
From her delicate wings a fine powder exudes and lands on the ground
by the light of the blue harvest moon a touch of Pixie Dust, in nimble magic !
Harmonious weaving, intangible strands of music coming from the sphere
sweet and beautiful arias, melodious twittering from a fairy wing's enfold
Wings not made of nylon, cellophane nor iridescent tulle but made of silk
like spider's webs tough and resilient from the Master Spinners pedipalps
Appendage wings made from embryonic liquid from ejected Neutron Stars
like butterflies they flit and fly through air currents, landing on little twigs;
Fairy dust of old as ancient as the parallels from this world to the next
dare say I, ... if ever you have been subjected to their fairy dust appeal
then flying limbs you shall receive and like it or not you will fly away
inside a land of pure magic where every thought is like a sweet reveal
From her delicate hand a sweep of the wand resting easy on your shoulder,
one single dose is feathered on you and suddenly, you are able to hold her !
Concrete dust drifts like sand across a coastal path.
An old woman battered with facial features that hung on her face,
Disconnected and hanging.
She leans forward in her blumonge, waterproof, unwashed nylon flares from Matalan.
They ruffle in the wind as she looks out withdrawn onto the A350.
Her gaze is muffled by a sheen of intoxication,
She tries with the majority of her self to keep her lids from closing,
Mascara encrusted into the creases of her skin,
Almost soldering her lashes together in a gluelike fashion.
Leans hazardously towards the path of oncoming traffic,
Gesturing with open arms to the creatures of metal that push past her.
The only trace of their moment in time is a gust that pushes her body back to safety as it, Confused and unobservant,
Collapses onto the urban stream that claims her yet again.
I watch as she continues to stumble on,
Reaching out to every vehicle that steams on past,
She does not see me.
She is clogged by something greater and more sombre than I know.
She is a perfect reflection of the time and place,
She is what we all are feeling but continue not to show in fear of the outcome.
She is us.
Cold, warm, horrifying, inviting
Grinding away at the last pink and grey pustules
pooling at the bottom of my
Skull
Gods own light pushes and claws helplessly
against thin nylon
Its primordial importance
Toppled by billions and billions of bright bulbs
Burning and boring into my eyeballs
Spiralling and spiralling down
an everlasting pit of fluctuating fun and fear
And skin and sin and guilt, guided
Down as fast or as slow as
You want, your choice
Quick glimpses of the very bottom shoot sharp
Icicles of despair into my sedentary soul
Thick mist
Clears temporarily from my
Glazed eyes, I push and claw helplessly against images
Of razed villages and burgundy-bloodied bodies,
Kicking and
Screaming against the unfeeling and undulating
Dilated eyes
of fellow billions
Her skirts lands against her springy step in a pretty way
Swirling around her luscious legs with an extra sway
She’s an old- fashioned woman, our Linda Lucy May Kay
Wearing silky nylon hose nearly every single day
Sailors all along the channel and down the bay
Will testify to what I have observed and now say
Her swishy skirts often lead their old eyes to stray
She is a snazzy dresser, our gorgeous Linda Lucy May Kay.
on crenshaw
carousing in cavernous cafes
slicing into earthen skin
the meat dancers bring it to a boil
they murder the rug
they scrounge for earth worms
the fish head girls bob like sea birds
telephoning purple mermaids for a date
they have no name tags and no flowers
they sing sad madrigals to the starfish
they know this is the last pavane
the final curtsy before night goes down
before morning arises under white sheets
loosening the brain screws
burning the instruction manuals
imbibing the nylon remonstrations
on crenshaw
a lonely woman croons
an oozing torch song to the dirt people
they sit erect in a dark morgue
chittering like insects
singing cool blues music to the meat dancers
they bring it to a boil
with burgers bullets and beef cake
genius guitar freak vivisects clawing time
he twangs his axe with a searing solo
he plays psychedelic lullabies to the dead
his music torturing the earth worms
Jan Juc Primary School
Annual Fundraiser
A Kite Festival
Perfect day
Windy, warm
Families crowd onto the lawn
Above Fisherman's Beach
Prams, dogs, wheelchairs
Giggling youngsters
Parents saying, "Look up!"
Cameras capture glee
Big blue whale
Wafting
Above several sharks out of water
A scuba diver twirling below
Knots and nylon twine
Fluttering ribbons and tails
Happy kids everywhere
Mums, Dads holding tight
A plethora of little diamonds
Soaring
Brilliant colours glint in grey skies
A giant octopus
Two Tiger Moths; pilots adrift
Like astronauts, space walking
A prancing purple tailed horse
A dazzlingly intricate, spinning snake
And several beautiful butterflies
hoodwinked shoal of fish
in strong close spun nylon nets~
fight for survival
In his shirt of bright yellow nylon,
Nicky hung, with his curious eye on
A pool he bent over,
Cool water enclosure
Still, he's well-dressed with his smile on.
Dependence
Looking out of the window
at the doctor's waiting room
his receptionist had gone outside for a smoke
she wore black underwear
under a white nylon dress
Faux pas?
What do I care, who dresses in a black T-shirt
jeans and a yellow silk scarf
in the hope of looking seedy but elegant
She inhaled the smoke deeply
I am filled with lust, my lips dry
oh, a kingdom for a drag
She saw my lust, drew the wrong conclusion
stumped her ***
Inside, she looked at me with contempt
The naked truth of hijacked leaves
when tree reveals a mockingbird
the wind with knives— the season’s thieves
applauds the loss of innocence
soprano song his spoken word
as summer turns a villainess
his merriment in verse she steals
to feed the winter’s sinfulness
where hunger flies and cries and kneels
to gods a songster’s soul appeals
the guilty— nylon-stocking blurred
...as ic’cles grieve neath ice-damned eaves
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