Quite burnt

Waxy nub

One end worked

Twisted and ground

Tight into square hole

T’other, charred,

Broken wicked

A real effort to relight

Dig deep with knife

Prise and

Lift…

.

.

Maybe

One day

A full year, but not a leaper.

365.
Done it.

Not quite one a day produced.
But net result the same.

So, now what...

and yes, I know this site doesn't have 365, but I started back in the {Minion} days...
I shall redo my Demon pages.

So, no poem today, if they're poems that is.
Possibly no poems for a while.

Feel free to offer suggestions as to what I might do next.

Sooner or Later

And so, knife descends

Kind and loving words

That held its fall at apogee

Finally turning stale in deaf ears

Massive gash hacked through inner thigh

Tang of steel and blood a final kiss goodbye

A fuck you to a world

That hasn’t noticed and doesn’t care

And wasn’t listening anyway

Pain of living is done

Passed on to family and friend

Knife

Take that knife

Plunge it deep

Twist and pull

.

Twist and pull

Watch blood well

Flow and bubble

.

See that knife

Stained to hilt

Plunge it deep

.

Plunge it deep

Again and again

Again and again

Request

If a knife is not your gift
Or poisoned cup ours to share
Then I ask a small boon
A compromise if you please
Give me dreamless sleep
So I may practise death

Scare D Crows

Fake man swaying in field of wheat

Scares avian to fearful flight

Away from feast of insects and grain

.

Yet dead man swaying in iron cage

Draws them in to wine and dine

Pecking carrion eyes plucking at festering tongue

.

Startled by gaseous escape

But soon return to drink of putrid brains

As they drip from mouth nose ears and eye sockets

Lasting Dance

Dance

Sway and swirl

Twist and turn

Be one

With

Natures breathe

As you

Dangle on

Your gallows

Tether

Four more met

These words swarm in shoals

Twisting and darting dodging

Eluding the dredging mental net

.

An unfortunate few caught

Dragged out to flounder and flop

On minds stark decking

.

To be scraped and gutted

Scaled and prepared

For others delectation

.

I think

I may have

Over fished these waters

Cyburan

Once more she recovered herself

And thrust up her clenched hands in frenzy

Imaginations are clogged with other people’s outputs

You also will be men; it will not belong

If at rare moments you stop smelling sulphur

It’s because you have begun smelling gas

Out of the bowels of the earth like a snake

Put sleep as black as beauty

In the secret of my belly

He had dropped his arm

And stood with his hands against his thighs

Like a statue

Plea

Alive

But not living

Performing routines

Day in day out

Automata

.

Rat race runner

Drudge and grind

Disposable replaceable

What

Is

The

Point

?

Anon

Our paths will cross

I have seen it

Followed my future course

And saw us intersect

And there will be tears

And there will be blood

And there will be suffering for loved ones

Our paths will detach

And I will remain healthy hearty and whole

And you will remain remains

Tower

I would,

If I could,

I would

Build a tower,

A tower

Reaching,

Higher

Than trees,

Higher than

Mountains,

Higher than

Clouds,

Not, mind you,

Not to be

Nearer God,

But,

But to get away,

Away from,

You.

Ends

Glass cold eyes

Monotone voice

Both trying to lie

You’ve run out of lies

Same lines again and again

Raised in heated vehemence

Until cold glass shatters

Ripping – shredding the monotone

Crackling whispers slip into silence

All done

No lies

No truth

Just silence

Glass dust catching light

Beautiful momentary rainbow clarity

You’ll never understand

As you blindly stare

Sigh

Turn

Walk away

One is

Some count ten, some eleven

And some don’t go past seven

There is sometimes joy and mirth

There are weddings and births

.

Some tell of Silver

And some take your gold

Others will keep quiet

Their secrets untold

.

Some tell of rich and others poor

Some wish, some kiss

Some offer heaven and some hell

And some will for joyous bliss

.

A number for laughing

Another for crying

Yet another for sickness

And one more for dying

.

Some offer a girl

Some offer a boy

And even the Devil's own self.

Some foretell witches

And some foretell wealth

.

But

About all they agree on

Is

One is for sorrow

The snake has kissed my heel.

Tie my spotted shoes for dancing,

When you walk, Stars walks with you,

Between your breast and your belly

We look right through them at the wall behind.

And pulled when he came home,

Hungry, gloomy, with red wild eyes

This seemed the more strange

Because of the death upon the tree.

He shut up and poured himself some coffee

See ye Christ has risen from his Cups

It was hot, thick, and sweet,
He wouldn't be giving it to anyone now

Town? Country?

One of peace, solitude

Wonderful vistas

Leafy woods, shimmering lakes, rolling fields

Solitude and peace and boredom

.

One of excitement, sociable

Wonderful vistas

Vibrant shops, social venues, neon clubs

Excitement and crowds and boredom

.

Or suburbia, sociable solitude

Wonderful vistas

Near shops, near woods, on the edge

Best of both worlds and still boring.

incomplete

I toil in soil

With shovel and sack

Wrestle you free

With bar and rope

I am the light

At the end of your tunnel

I am your resurrectionist

Parents

John V. Atanasoff

Aaron T. Beck

Frank W. Cyrthe

I am not

.

Thomas A. Dorsey

William Phelps Eno

Ronald Fisher

I am not

.

Hugo Gernsback

John Harrison

Moritz Schlick

I am not

.

But I am

The father of A.L.A-H