Swished
and squashed
in a can.
These doleful wings,
soaked in weighty brine,
flop around
in tired ways
and this daze
seems all eternal.
Swished
and squashed
in a can.
These doleful wings,
soaked in weighty brine,
flop around
in tired ways
and this daze
seems all eternal.
Nobody really knows
Nobody can peel
Or grate
The layers
Away
Nobody can look
Find
The underneath
The inside
It’s too damaged
Too complex
Soul-encompassing curtains
Slide across
To reveal
Nothing
The stage is full
Of black-painted windowsills
Which come to show more windows
Behind more curtains
Truth disloyal
Still all-veiled.
There is this urge within me to run very far away, to golden plains,
Drenched in the sun.
When life gets too much;
when thoughts jumble up
and I touch
the possibility
of emancipation.
Oh look! A potato!!!
So velvety
So porous
Mutilated
a la knife and fork
Fork and knife
Knife and spoon
Piercing through the coagulated meaty sauce
Fleshy find
Mash it
Smash it
Play with it in your fingers
Toss it through
the un-transparent window.
Through the broken-glass.
Find it in your sleep
And dream of mushy landscapes.
Written by: Flameheart
content is copyright protected All Rights Reserved
I want to pour:
release
the words onto the page, but then I remember:
teeth need to be brushed and business attended to.
Logic overcomes the situation like a python,
twisting and bulging,
divulging
nothing.
Have you checked your e-mails?
The snake increases its might.
e-mails
stare.
I glare:
to-do list waiting in the wings.
Ignoring the potentially lethal hug,
my pen is picked up.
Who cares?
A bug?
Free verse escapes, as aeroplanes of thoughts
compete for the narrow landing strip.
Suddenly, a slimy, long, muscly creature
emerges:
raises its head,
infumed.
Only, I’ve brought my Charming Clarinet
and play the pet a tune.
Written by: Flameheart
content is copyright protected All Rights Reserved
A moment ago,
I wanted to write
essays of the sea;
great stories of a golden quest;
the truth;
the best;
waves upon the kitchen floor;
treasures in your beating chest;
tales of way and wow and woe;
tales of passion
tales of ‘go’
all of it,
none of it,
strong or light:
a moment ago,
I wanted to write.
Written by: Flameheart
content is copyright protected All Rights Reserved
Poetry,
like inspiration from a seed,
scent
away to a heavenly place.
Heavenly words.
You smell of
fresh-cut roses.
I put you in a vase.
You envelope;
gasp
into the glass haven;
grow
as poetic branches
shudder
and
shatter
the shards.
Your vines
embellish
the kitchen counter;
awaken
the sombre stove:
a light.
Written by: Flameheart
content is copyright protected All Rights Reserved
Mind.
fragment.
Drive
into the blue abyss,
dreamlike,
stare into her red eyes.
Rise.
Follow crimson octagonal signs.
Go.
Trace his green outline.
Chase:
blue haze meets you;
how true.
Purple temptress seduces you;
yellow light draws you
but
white
darkness
comforts you away
and you come back
anew.
Written by: Flameheart
content is copyright protected All Rights Reserved
For Goodness sake
For interest sake
What does poetry look like on this site?
I hesitate
I dare to shake
You look at me
and scream
Whoo wee
Instead
I drop salt gum drops on
your head
and you sprinkle sugar
instead
Thanks
Looks like I was wrong
Should have known it all along!
Written by: Flameheart
content is copyright protected All Rights Reserved