She was having a fling with the elves
She would catch them alone by themselves
Then behind Santa’s back
She would hit the old sack
She was lining them up by the twelves
it's a motel room
sunrise, sunset, happy, orange sun
some such
off the interstate
in
bum
florida
my spasmodic hercules
I work pretty hard to make it a hercules,
anyway
with bulls & boars & eighty six
bras
and a bottle of evan williams
wine
I float
in breathless transience
of heartbeats
as the moon's feral pupil peers
through keyholes
in the clouds
The Orpheus kiss
is a crap shoot
elevens showering sterling whispers
of soft Tiffany roses
from gentle arbors
or twelves
of black sky thundering
bastard answers
to unspoken prayers
I may toss
in subconscious unrest
but deep in pulsing ether
the pristine artery
to salvation sweetly beseeches
like an incandescent porthole
the siren lure of morning
from lips of nightmare
7/21/19
Her glory dance uninhibited
She, the liveliest of the twelves.
Created her own music,
Wowing the rest of us.
All wanting to be
So much like her
Some forgot
To be
Self
Met with you the first time, knowing not what I had just found.
Working days and nights beside you, walking unit’s hard ground.
Helping one another in and out of these day’s crisis.
Trust in easy comfort sharing secrets and our vices.
Blinded by your selfless nature under our same God’s eyes.
Colored hues of virtue burned into your soul it rides
Times enduring twelves in truth and depth of pasts and yet-tos.
Corners turning heads to tails in trails you doing time thru.
I have watched you suffer dating burden from his cold hand,
Wanting many times to tell you to break from that dead man.
Wisdom needing to remind me, hope was holding you still.
Losing grip, you make the change and years returning, Love will.
My prayers carry wishes for you, one day’s given good spouse.
Under Holy Ghost’s soft guidance, making your home, God’s house.
Sharing smiles and tears in keeping promise past the last day.
Into Christ’s embrace that shines you through a Heaven’s gateway.
Always just a thought away you will be after our end.
Grateful in my heart to have been given such a rare friend.
They were so bright
so shiny, so white
They fit me like a mitten
And when I saw the price
I was surely smitten
On they went with my new uniform and belt
clothes were pressed to conform
no matter how they felt
So a new shirt falls the way
it should
But new sneakers would
bite if they could
I put them on before my shift
to try and wear them in
But the only thing I wore
was my patience thin
Now it’s late and time to organize
my clothing by size
Everything its place and to do’s
And on the top shelves
Is where I put those shoes
I broke in working shifts of twelves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Signatures rendered by the scholars of subliminals in sync
Measures of libations red cursive highlighted
Parchments pages blotted by renaissances regurgitated, host to most....
Mimick made prep school circles, in something going round and round
Unisons bleeding reechoed voices amid curriculum vitaes, wrapped in bound!?
Typecast in eight fonts dye print pangs of, literatures poetic maimed
Contemporary spin cycle verse in fascisms unseen posed to retrieve
Receive, the same sad songs blue black blanks, five star reviews....
Text approved breakthroughs by symbiotic professors in, the new and improved
Two thousand twelves collectors editions these, scientific ten cc's of your
Scholastic avant-gardes underground syllabus', contextual front page news?!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Bacteriums, Poetry in `Motion ~
Yes, we deserve March snow,
For we deserve to know
That seasons own themselves;
It’s not for us to care
The temperature of air,
Or cut the fickle year in twelves.
Cracked mirror reflects my hate.
It sees how far I miscalculate.
Trepidation at my fingertips.
Dry cracked and bleeding lips.
Involuntary act of aggressive passion.
Cloaked in viral gaudy fashion.
Trapped in paths of midnight wander.
Caves that scream out of the yonder.
Impressive feats of cubist art.
Back to front. End to start.
Porcelain figures smash and break.
For good or bad, for goodness sake.
Feathers drop down from the heavens.
They leave me all at twelves and sevens.
Sixes smile in joyful bliss.
When cracked mirrors do not exist.
Will you be my valentine
my size twelves your size nines
Let me hold you in my arms
I will impress you with my charms
Dancing slowly to the beat
our feet meet
Side by by side we will glide
we will take things in our stride
will you be my bride
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