Friday, 1 March 2013

Served by the Slice

served by the slice  
this body, cut through in the redesign for a different life,
whistles a frayed remembrance leaving naught but remnants
when falling for the suicidal hiatus of a tethered tale

in these days, of the child’s exultation, sing your song
as a lyrical dog chases damsons and damsels and the first and
furriest flavour the dustiest corpse of trees; darkly, deeply,
but with equal measures of lullabied  bile

amongst the diseased shouts “a plague on this lazy writing”
I hear you soundly and catch the irons in chipped yet eager teeth
and in times of heavier precipitation will smelt another
crock of uneven scorn

I wont beat my head to watch the swarm of black stars
collapse upon themselves in easily practiced
spiteful pity nor follow that first blaze of fear that found
the time to disappear in a crowbursting storm
I will swallow these recovering dreams , not unlike a waking alcoholic,
but shall surrender to no dog no matter it’s hue

too many days my fists feel very chatty
with so much they'd like say to you
but I, like the pencil end eraser chewed up and worn past metal rim,
cut my gums to trim  the words that should be unspoken
until détente explodes in a dissolute distemper
and my congenital fury erupts anew at which

I choose to detonate, shake every word I read & write,
force the inquisition of some fevered worth
or at least free the world of my selfish weight
rage unleashed that 28 days walking cant assuage

the fist shattered clown on the royal blue wall
laughed once too often, not any more, his
splintered face erased in a freefall of stucco tears
and for what it’s worth I do feel better

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