Short Flatness Poems

The valley

With its flatness

A space between 

Abrupt enclosures..

An appearance of

Time and space and

A viewer which all

Seem separate..this

Illusion expressing

A calm beyond

Understanding...

(See photo at:  www.polarityinplay.com)...

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There are many ways.
The spirits say there are.
Ways to escape.
There are gaps through the bars.
I could flatten my body and slip though.
Or so they say.
The medicine counter calls us.
They call us every day.
The voices go deeper.
I try to flatten my body, but my mom calls.
Blurting things out, and crying.
Then flatness....

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Fast and furious energy
Spinning into my orb’s  flatness 
A rotating funnel
It whirls and spirals
Rearranging what was
Mind reflected 
In its menacing eye 

Force fields emerge
Pressing together
Two lives
Fires once banked
Flame anew
Mindless of what should be
What is emerges
Love’s tensile strength transmuted

KDK...

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From the miles of flatness and the fens

Comes the hill where this Cathedral stands

Everyone can see this floodlit site

When the moon is out and there is night.

I saw it through the window as I turned 

It’ struck me down with beauty never learnt.

As I lay surprised upon the stair

I absorbed the beauty I saw there 

Should we worship beauty such as this?

It strikes us with a hammer not a kiss...

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Strong hands explore
The pure silk landscape
In gentle topography
Tracing her features
Beneath his fingers
Mapping her contours
Her sensual curvature
The undulating terrain
Soft mounds contrasted 
By prominent peaks
Then across the flatness
Of the tremulous plain
Thru sparse coarse undergrowth
To the hot moist valley beyond
Strong hands explore
And as fingers probe
The pure silk landscape
Reforms beneath his touch...

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Sits there and judges.
How dare you mock me!
Do you think I have time 
to perfect smocked sleeves?
Turned down collars
Frilly blouses
Pleats wrinkle-free.

You are redundant
No longer of use
Except as a doorstop
Or in self-defence.

I will not be cowed
By your flat, grey face.
I glory in chaos,
Crumpled cottons and lace.
I shy from the conservative
Perfectly straight
We will not have flatness
Except on our plates.
...

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As the mind is tabula rasa
Runs into deep, deep into sleep-abyss
Enchanted by the wave
Unfasten by the speculum
Grip up a dust from nebula
Meridian air touch the hair
Again to prepare for a slumber
Down to the Caucacious mountain
The arrival of souls up there
To create a new lullaby
Mind is still taking an intercourse
With the unconscious
Travelling upper crest to sable abyss
Tears crawls from the corner of sleepy-eye
For pleasure?
For flatness?
Or blend of two side by side?...

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