No other beast, intruding
But is with gun, protruding
Down a slant of light's
Treed funnelling through.
Man, seen as. Man, imagine!
More out of place to define
Non-native killer;
A world, foreign to!
A winding, desolate road stands before me,
Covered in white ashy soot.
As nuclear winter stagnates,
Grey corpse clouds spill a thousand secrets,
While asphyxiating dust cakes a boarded-up shack in the faint distance.
Loneliness settles into obsolete bones.
I've been searching for what feels like eons now,
For any semblance of humanity.
Scarcity of food looms with each passing second,
For even the few remaining animals have become paper-thin,
Their skeletons protruding through stretched flesh.
A bitter cold silently encompasses the atmosphere.
Summer evaporated that fateful day,
Never to come again.
Continuing my treacherous trek,
I come upon the frost-tipped shack.
Peering through the gaps of a door half blown away by the aftershocks,
Hope dies, as once again, emptiness is all I find.
My eyes well with tears, only to be interrupted by an uncontrollable cough.
Spitting blood into my hand, the symptoms are getting worse.
Residual radiation is taking its toll.
Death's warm embrace will be welcomed.
But until that fateful day, I continue this journey alone,
Perpetually seeking any voice to ring out in a macabre, self-fulfilling apocalypse.
Blessing In the Shadows
Shackled and battened by the restraints of humankind
Hounding ego, gnawing the essence to stay behind
Reverence for soul lessen, protruding unkind
Assigned to desolation, fulfillment confined
Dying hope slipping, clutching the foundation of fate
Only feeling torment, loitering till the final date
Accepting all righteous acts to come as bait
Unknowingly unearthing a hand deterred from hate
Awakening to a notable entity, driven by solicitude
Fearful to the unforeseen, but ready to be renewed
Weaving potential realities, leaving behind the unfavorable until ensued
Released ultimately from the ocean of inhibitions to conclude
In the mist there are two gray shapes receding.
In the mist two gray ships become one.
In mist there is water.
In the water there are two gray ships receding.
In water receding, there is more sand.
In sand there are two gray shapes protruding.
In sand there are two mush-gray shapes.
In water there is too much ape s**t.
In the sand there are two chips.
In the distance there are cruise ships.
[Inspired by an article over ten years ago stating that cruise
ships were dumping raw sewage into the ocean behind them.]
Does a man become less hirsute when balding has occurred
and the hair upon the head it disappears?
Perhaps not !! It seems there is thickening of the eyebrows
hair protruding from the nose and much more fluff filling up the ears Pardon??
With stillness and balance
white egret rest on broken
protruding tree limb
from flooding lake
“Mad? Am I madam?” asked my house nanny
with protruding front teeth like Bugs Bunny,
I said, “I didn’t mean that…
Please check your sir what he got,
Was it a car or a cat I saw,Nee?”
Now here in Aussie land, exists a very hardy native creeping vine
reputedly produces berry fruit that is tasting rather fine
Can one harvest fruit, now that's a leading question
It has long protruding sharp spiky thorns,
Maybe necessary to practice abstention
Now the man who took the time to give this plant a recognisable title, was he in lots of pain ?
affected by a thorn of the Cockspur, its common, but not botanical identifiable name
My arm drags along the floor.
Seemed harmless as a curled up skeleton finger.
Shrugged so much that I felt loopy.
She has some sort of way to play with cobwebs.
Spiraling and laughing.
She likes the creases of bone.
Creases, whirling, and shoulders hurting, dragging.
I have a lot of enemies prodding me.
Seemed harmless as a bone in my foot.
This one decided to follow my footprints made of candy syrup.
Was so tempting that she climbed in between my shoulder blades like nothing.
The protruding feeling rambles on.
I have enemies, sometimes, I try to…
Other times, it’s just me and a skeleton, and me too.
And those bones?
They seemed more cracked yesterday.
Norway in the crosshairs
The scandal that has rocketed the royals in Norway
household has dented the people's belief that they
are somehow unique, more democratic, than
anyone else on the planet
They have the bluest oceans, the whitest waterfalls
and the highest mountain in the world
They are also the wealthiest country, with 7 trillion
in the bank
They also have a rock protruding from the mountain,
fondly called The Pulpit. Can any country be greater?
There is a dark side to this excessive self-belief
a nationalism marked by arrogance.
They can not understand that there are people who prefer
to live elsewhere, those who do are viewed with suspicion
We see an undertone of fascism here, not healthy
Perhaps the royal scandal opened up some eyes
We Are an Anomaly
Where to begin?
From the beginning, I suppose.
Mom had a cesarian (not really) but was asleep
When I was born.
My birth certificate says I have three older siblings
when I only know of two.
So, where’s my other sibling?
Mom swears I only have two.
Perhaps, my family ancestry is alien in nature.
My brother being a giant and me sister, a genius
And then there’s me . . .
Born with 6 toes on each foot
And Bi-fid thumbs but the right one only had a bone
protruding from the first joint.
I believe I was a Siamese twin connected at the thumbs.
We more than likely were separated way before childbirth
But who really knows. Probably the nurse who filled out my birth certificate.
I survived because I was closest to the placenta.
Anywho, I’ve always felt a presence with me
Or perhaps we switch places from time to time.
Or maybe, we’re both in here, sharing life together.
Sharing dreams.
Rush rustling in the wind protruding presence and peace,
“Winter’s coming” a chorus crawling out the bare trees,
The serene silence of winter's as tranquil as
The hush of sweet lover’s dreams,
December came dancing along adorned in diadem of snow swans and bejeweled ballerinas.
Clutched jaw, grinding teeth against pulp,
until ash and blood coat a deadened tongue.
The nightsong quiets—a pulsating silence encapsulates the land
as I walk up to a pyre built of withering dreams and deadly nightshade.
The cold, bitter air brushes against protruding flesh.
Looking toward the skies, faith stripped and shamed,
I climb and take my place among my ancestral spirits.
The silence of the night breaks, with chants of *Burn the witch* filling the void.
Leering eyes and foaming mouths scream obscenities my way.
But even among this fanatic freakshow, I hold on to my dignity.
I do not let them see the fear festering beneath my eyes,
nor does my lip quiver.
With insurmountable strength, I hold my head high
as I watch the torches preparing to set me ablaze.
Closing my eyes one final time, I breathe in everything I have ever held dear.
Memories flood—of loves lost and gained,
of the changing seasons,
of my connection to this glorious earth.
I can feel the flames licking at my feet now.
But I will not scream,
for my resurrection will come soon enough.
Israeli hostages and Gazans hollowed,
the dark cold cruelty of some in humankind.
Gray circles under frightened eyes,
bones protruding from fading frames.
Listless song of the starving,
grieving God. ~
.
her tongue
gently protruding
past her lips
whilst i waltz (in mine think)
by hern
her tongue and her think
in deep thought
it's curled pink
i hear'd it's rub 'gainst
it's thick lip's want
her tongue
az if'n had eyne
i felt it's
roam
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