Skinwalker
"Skinwalker"
That one’s mind
is like a scene from Chagall
dreams flow like blood bleeds
across the cortex page curtain call
an audience with the silent speakeasy
cerebellum with its swift
matter-of-factness
logically guides the fingers
to dance across keys
the amygdala paints freely
expressing visions like marbled memories
queens, kings, bishops, knights, castles and
pawns, all in their correct and proper place
across an expansive black and white chequered board
drawing colour back in, injected with print now shimmering in pools
music through glazed windows,
what stands behind the oculus,
seen barely by moths prescribing light
like watching all this through watered glass
the tears dropping like diamonds onto an empty dancefloor
and the minefield peppered with hidden explosives
code breaking symbols in short stories
the orchestra calls like Stravinsky
but this isn’t at all well regarded nor poetry
ridding the scene of firebirds and vultures
is always messy never pretty nor easy,
the hungry lap their milky sentences chained
to a small yard like sardonic wolves clapping
brains bleating like sheep in wide open meadows
flowers for the plucking owls hooting
are never just owls hooting
skin walking coyotes suck the marrow all out howling -
they say, you can hear them
oceans of lifetimes away
drunk on too much iambic mojo
when they want to trochaic the day away
feed me your set design, they prescribe
we’ll deal your sentences no need to hide,
it’s all part of the play, we now have time
to call it all back in and send it on its merry way
out with the tide, rain rain go away
a hat full of keys are thrown up in the air
in abstract despair landing loosely in the water like words
some are gathered before the others sink and disappear
like some kind elephant's drowned lost ivories the power all wasted
now buried treasure in the music that some waxing lyrical never hear
above the falsetto bravado covering the panacea, safe harbour was left long ago
pale spines never transfigure tusk-like but the sands of time harden all
as they fossilise and life pounds the bones of it all into Bex powders
headaches disappear and eventually are taken off the market
Picasso brushes the pounding heart, colours it buck naked rose
softly sensually stripped au naturel throbbing prelude cadence exposed
now the sharp shards scooped up then swallowed like a true native
thoughts and words like sweet and sour candies
juicy cherries straight from the bleeding red centred heart
crimson claret and burgundy
a ripened jubilee taken in solitarily,
then spat from the mind across hands
they are pinned like blue morpho to wall
the fingers continue to spin Morpheus away
tapping away tap tap tapping away
the 5 points like a star then stall splayed
like heathens they are recalcitrant
and pointing bones in the darkness of a cave
leaving signatures in unwashable waves
reflection L'Oiseau bleu arrives on the echolocation
walls marked to save cognitive bluebirds
while barefoot outside wings the deep one
strange gadaidja featherfoot landing softly with a thud
now walks across sharp rocks
all waiting like hungry sharks
in the retrograde shallows
serenaded by effusive
chirping cicadas, pimms,
thinly sliced cucumber trifles,
mud men and croaking frogs
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Crossing the Rubicon”/ Anoushka Shankar
https://youtu.be/OUUWUh5lnvw
Stravinsky: "The Firebird" Suite (1919 version) (with Score)
https://youtu.be/HDqR1qHLKEc
Chagall
https://www.marcchagall.net/
Metzinger
https://jeanmetzinger.art/
"L'Oiseau bleu"
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%27Oiseau_bleu_(Metzinger)
Picasso
https://www.pablopicasso.org/
"Bluebird"/Bukowski
https://mypoeticside.com/poets/charles-bukowski-poems
https://pediaa.com/what-is-the-difference-between-iambic-and-trochaic
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kurdaitcha
final edit. 25/07/2022
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Lady Labyrinth
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