I have six senses that I worship with.
I feel spring’s sunshine and relish rain on my skin;
I hear her singing in the thrush’s throat.
The scent of lilacs l i n g e r s in sweet summer.
Fall floods me with my memories.
I view vibrant skies and winter’s wonder!
From God’s glory shown, I know lasting love
surrounded by space
in a soundtrackless cinéma vérité;
long stares out of the window,
cigarettes after sex;
finally, she whispers, 'do you love only me?'
the question remains unanswered
while seasons fade.
the walls start closing in,
echoing the decade of quietude;
the busy streets outside remain,
stiff gins after six;
finally, she sighs, 'do you still love me?'
and while seasons fade,
the question remains.
One day he'll be gone.
You'll say don't know where, nor care.
Even though by dawn
I'll have made you be the one
Who buried him under there.
whisper of summer
I recall days of gold
bridging the years
In appreciation of Jimi Hendrix and Mary Shelley
I am sick of minor authorities,
and my boring life, and those stupid fools -
of my job, order, and priorities.
Strike this mundane existence and these rules.
Rise, Jimi, with your electric guitar.
Ghost of your wild, psychedelic flower -
flash stirring midnight lightning from afar.
Jolt me with true, tempestuous power.
Nature, release me from the doldrums' grip,
Blast away, these cloudless, temperate days.
Come on baby, bring it. Now, let 'er rip.
Light up this flesh, these bones through purple haze,
Like Frankenstein and his beautiful wife,
the lightning and thunder bring this beast life.
I shall write of fading distant things
Of silenced bells, birds without wings
Of time, that metronomic dunce
Who lives its moments all at once
I’ll view this masterpiece I’ve painted
Slightly perfect, slightly tainted
Leave it to you to gauge the hues
Of struggling artists paying dues
Upon them I have placed my mark
Both heaven light and hellish dark
For each pursues the shredded truth
Of tarnished age and stumbling youth
Of dreams released and dreams contained
A perfect life still slightly stained
Feel as tho' I'm going to the dogs
it's almost time to pop my clogs
kick the bucket chuck it in
call it a day take a spin
and shuffle off this mortal coil
be released from worldly troubles and toil
buy the farm and bite the dust
or cash in my chips if I must
when D-Day dawns (it's not that far)
a big bang send-off will be my last hurrah
but it's no joke
as should I croak
who will miss me
when I'm long-gone
for no matter where on earth I am
I don't fit in I don't belong
oh well easy come easy go
whether up in smoke or down below
A pred o vile name of dustin wallace some scum that degraded to slime, is in snake river correctional doing two terms for the crime.' He violated to the death i beleive
A girl of only five years or six.? Sahara was
To be his victim, the thought makes me feel so sick.' Judge Garrison gave him the gift, of two life terms inside.' But it could not restore Sahara, to her father..And today
Still bitter tears he cries.' Because the state
Has changed its stance on crimes done by
Felons under eighteen years at time of deed.' And Tyler Saharas devoted dad is down upon his knees.' They have reccomended the slime that is within its prison cell to be released back to the town
Where Tyler Dwight still dwells.' I beleive there is a facebook page where you can leave your thoughts.? And even a petition
If you might care aught.' To help this broken hearted man, maybe thats the thing
To do, i trust this poems staying up or i"m
Getting legal i promise all of you.!!!!
all snowflakes have a six-corner form,
a law that winter's secrets still perform.
then chemistry and physics opened us up to so much more—
how bonds and angles build the crystal score
Yet still, in this knowing, we must always see
a sixth sense, free to unfold more mystery.
in six senses on a six-sided die,
rolling chance - 6 pips to let fly.
Six people in the uk, charged with crimminal damage on a protest..
May well be sentanced as terrorists
And be jailed for over a decade each
Where is the reality.? What would such
Teach.?
concentrated in cobbles
unpatterned fairyland
box homes coloured
community symphonic
church mosque kiss mystical
flesh moves brick RECREATE
realms unified and truthful
fabric encodes memories
generational genetics quietly smile
enlightened shadows
in craft supreme
ancestral PROMPTS
in district cultural
moods
stabilised
his-herstory
recorded
____________
Fabric Art Wall Tapestry : Appliqué & Image Embroidery, Quilting : ‘BIRTH STREET ALIVE’ : 71 Horstley Street, District Six’ : Prior to Forced Removals : Ghairo Daniels : 2021
Leatherette & Suede with cotton, silk, satin, coloured net, chiffon, beads, sequins, buttons : 100 x 58 cm : Purple Satin Lining
Style: Historical Story Quilting
[ NB. Link to pics at comments section of Poem ]
My husband laughed
When we bought you,
Little basil.
The year was new—
"Let's help Jack, too.
Cook some sweet stew."
My husband smiled.
Still green, surprise,
A brown thumb fluke.
Through furnace skies,
Broken clouds' cries,
Expanding size.
We chase your pests,
Taste our small crop—
Piquant petals
On countertop
Yielding non-stop.
Seasoned leaves plop.
Sitting on the deck looking down upon the creek
There's ripples on the surface, the water's running free
The rays of early sunshine, shimmering through the trees
My beautiful six year old granddaughter is perched upon my knees
The breeze is blowing gently and ruffling up the leaves
The leaves are gently falling, filling up the gutters attached upon the eaves
Yellow blossom full of nectar, attracting many bees
Be aware of sight, the sound and smell, the senses, these are the keys
Nature so magnificent without ever asking. it will surely please
Six ducks
W A D D L E D
Past
The empty
Beer cans
One tipped over
Quacking
U P
Born: "Don't WANNA!"
Dying: "Don't WANNA!"
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