Sweet Groove

 

Sol's Gold Shafts Rise to Stroke Luna's Ascent

 

Text

"...the section you are reading interprets the text of your face."

Her Devastatingly Delicious Wake

She struts clam'rous ovations from a sumptuously clappin' derrière. 

With every stride her bounteous bosom bounces, straining her brassiere.   

The cocks crow and hens cry foul, windows tremble as the Skyline bows.

Waves of heat flood her wake, horned devils aflame to strip the blouse.

They burn double: from God's decree and her flesh's heavenly abundance.

Their pricks sing as spirits burn, such agony never gleans a glance

from those bright eyes and brighter smile as the deafening parade passes.

Women decry, hissing "She's too much!", and Men athirst taste bitter ashes.  

     

Highball Low

She has it all, glass in hand,

and speaks dry ampersand.

Words coarse as her skin

gilt a fulsome grin.

Beyond considering,

she abhors feeling.

The highball goes low

and all her friends know

if she scorns to stop 

she, not glass, will drop.

  

Squared Circles

Men stride in circles inscribing

a ring of wan yellow grass,

discarded halo of the 

Fallen Angel.

Concrete wall encloses them

and forms a square which binds

the cycle of their blighted footfall.

Serenading Angel

 

All Hallows'

Halloween is nothing to celebrate.

It should not be fun.

On my tenth Hallows' 

my Appendix nearly burst 

as a ghoulish German dwarf 

cruelly tried to make me laugh 

with his Swabian accent

while I writhed in pain.

It's no excuse to stuff your faces with sweets

(Which mother blamed for my malady).

When evil is let loose before Saints return, 

streets and sidewalks shall be Rivers of Blood.

Autumn Spell

Blanched yellow leaves become 

bright gold coins in Sun's smithy

The cool breeze carries your fragrance

like a benediction

Our hands entwined know touch 

shares more mystery than breath

An Old Thief's Testament

Chased chimeras for years

and life, the ultimate spoil,

will be pinched from me

by the subtlest hand.

Only death keeps score,

toe tags add up.

Jesus is the greatest thief of all.

He nicked eternal life from death

and, like a thief in this night,

returns to take mine. 

 

Méta II

Crisp air of your essence, 

clarity of its bouquet,

overwhelms all sense.

You mock my ardor,

but I will not surrender.

God was hardest upon

the most ardent.

I love the chase as much as capture.

I know both sides of rapture.

In your arms cast down or 

taken up is equal pleasure. 

Copenhagen

Lurid house-fronts line the banks

as tourist boats glide lifelessly by...

Songs never heard as shopkeepers 

toll waterways and patent every hue.

Smiles shine brighter than 

freshly minted coins.

Every boy and girl a budding 

Bounderby or Hetty Green.

This cashbox Venice that banished  

Santa Claus centuries ago... 

Where Soarin' Graveyards died hated 

and Jens cursed with his last breath.

The Known Unknown Contagion

My breath is a menace I'm told,

whether indoors midst vents

or outside under towers.

There is no refuge, no Prince Galahalt

to slay invisible, variating, Dragons.

Overburdened Angels of Mercy

stoically vent about those

they've lost patience with and euthanize.

I look out between blinds and see

well spaced lines of bodies in masks

under Sun's kind light who look

like variants of the Stoic Angels 

knowing the tales and tailism are endless,

a terror induced enclosure without escape.

Dark Pools

Everything is relative.

Incestuous Ontology

and Contagious Pedagogy

cultivate Propriety.

Ancestry, a Fortress perched 

atop cordillera of Blackrock,  

is hedged by restive waters. 

                                               Eugenics and Securities

                                  produce a Union more Perfectly Infected.

Heavenly Fresco

 

Out of Breath a New Star Arises

Out of breath a new Star arises.

Always she waxes, never wanes.

Strip-mined spirit below 

yields love's light above.

Hollow shafts echo

her song forever  

filling chasms:

"If you're ever 

 in a jam 

 here I am."

Open Book

 

The movement of her eyes, as if reading an open book.

Intimate Gloss

Christine is a warm, comely miss I just met. 

Two days past nineteen, captivating silhouette... 

Behind a curtain I caught her gown's spill 

Over lithe nape down past cloven hill.

Bliss and Burn

So sunny and the bright blue above flooded everything in gold.

She was graduating and wanted to come over 

for a swim and sunbathe to celebrate.

Her white bikini soaked up sunlight and my eyes as she dove in.

Her tan skin glowed like shaded pearl.

While sunning she asked me to apply

lotion to her legs and back when she turned over.

My hands explored her firm softness and rose

slowly up her legs to thighs and ascending rise

to two perfect hemispheres covered by chaste cloth. 

How much I wished to tuck in that cloth and explore

those glorious hemispheres with my hands,

my head aswim in sweet sap but...  

I burned pleasurably but was never burnt. 

 

Celestial Skin

The sky of your radiant skin

is the beginning of sense...

Constellation of moles

from above lip to neck

to shoulder to breast

settling at the small

of your back 

my horoscope.

The Lookout

A stoic Dutch captain hung himself at the helm.

The Lookout was reading an account of the assassination

of Louis, Duc D'Orléans by John the Fearless to repel

stifling heat as the river's course took them. 

His soaked brow's menace aroused a targeted smack.

A mosquito's quelled and The Lookout's sucked blood

mingles with sweat dyeing his forehead blanched red.

He thought of the Duc D'Orléans' severed hand. 

This branch cadet kindled flame, 

nearly torching his elder's frame.

 

Méta

On a Divan vast as outer space

Lilies bow to the Persian Princess.

Sun's sweet gold strokes her face.

Rain shower's crystal 

ornaments the 

wake of her footfall.

St. Candida of Garona

 

The Plain

Smell of natural gas tickles the nose...

on manured fields Sunset smelts gold.

Wendy's jet hair licks heaven's navy blue.

Her breath an occult bouquet 

from carmine lips I burn to taste.

Foreign sensations flood the plain

as songbirds' notes waft mundane. 

Winsome

 

Hamas-19

Sound of Amphitheater effect rain under awnings

moments before missiles strike the site of contagion.

Hamas-19 a virus plaguing every building

and home destroyed in the open air detention camp 

blockaded by the potential victims of its pathogen.

Crop Life

 

To the Birds

The birds hate our poetry,

their songs never

innocent of enmity. 

At war, in dauntless formation, 

they line up on threads of heaven. 

 

Puff yourselves up 

feather-headed fops! 

Our verse you'll never drub.

"Virgin sheets are for droppings!"

   Their battle cry most mocking.

 

The Grind

 

"We've truly touched on something nouveau." 

"Don't Worry Mr. Gates, We'll Never Distribute Vaccines Freely to Other Nations Because There's Money to Be Made."

 

Gentleman at the end next to Bill Gates is the Medical Sciences Chief of The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation and also was the executor of Epstein's Estate. Guy on the opposite side of Epstein from Gates is Larry Summers, former Treasury Secretary of the US during Clinton administration. 

Pink Moon

 

Tapers

The embroiderers of the golden tapestry

never let down their hair as rope

to take up seekers.

They enclose with estranged cloth 

that wraps us and shines

in each ray of the Sun's

allotted fire.

The cold kiss of a tear stings flushed cheeks.

Bare bone shakes when touched by their gold.

Words turn against flesh and feast.

Moonshine

The Moon is a star's tomb

collapsed to pocked stone.

Boldly it nicks light from the Sun

in a varied, betimes null, fashion.

Drawn by Earth to shade eves and move tides...

Thief to Sun,

Slave to Earth,

a curséd berth

stars shun.

Crimson Snide

 

Stormy Day Ferris

In a faded floral dress

and effusive smile

apostrophized by 

lively blue eyes,

hopeless to imagine

she ever slept.

At the playground

she swung highest 

and told everyone 

she's kicking the Sun.

   

Otium Dognitate

 

Cloud Swathed Sun

 

Angel's Regard

 

When Air Becomes Terror

When air becomes terror birds sing dirges.

The Sun's rays mock masked children 

scratching window panes.

Dust gathers on desks too close for hygienic concern,

playgrounds still as graveyards.

When air becomes terror billionaires sing paeans

for pharmaceutical corps and strictly enforced

cleansing of public space while their wealth 

spikes immensely. 

Tech (Statement by Jacques Ellul)

.          

Pictures from the Nature Preserve Park

Otters with heads shaved 

like Slaves of Christ

swam in columns down

canals.

One may have been

the reincarnated

Aquinas.

A Mother and her boys 

on a carousel,

mirrors captured me taking

taking photos.

In a white Volvo I was 

the driver playing music

that "always told a story"

as the boys laughed

in backseats. 

Purple Plush

 

Clarity Hall

So young we're old.

So fun we're bored.

In a bright hallway

on plush pile carpet

my love's feet,

cold as

coroner's kiss,

glide closer.

Her hand strokes

my cheek

like scythes

glean wheat.

Antic Bronze

To the Queen of Carolina Circle

 Head first into the world,

 a girl crowned blonde.

 Precious and blinded by

 pointed blades of light.

 Years erase the blight.

 Bloom of hair and limbs

 ignite with youthful vigor,

 ripening life so tender.

 Time drags and adulthood

 hangs high above her reach, 

 dim as a distant star.

 Alive with dream and caution,

 years fly and ideals blossom.

 She gets to work and builds,

 hope alone won't do,

 a life to fit her best:

 Not without passionately seeking

 a helpmate to make it doubly blest.

 

 

 

Four Mile Road

Our bus cleared the overpass.

Scent of manure fills nostrils 

as gold fields flank the road

far as youthful eyes espy.

                                           Out to Pioneer: a square, sparse structure

                                           of three stories, solid as a Cathedral

                                           without ornament, featuring dully

                                           tiled hallways with water fountains 

                                           made too high for children.

In classrooms a tricolored rag 

hung over a prominent corner 

we pledged ourselves to each morning.

                                            Afterwards, from steel vents     

                                            above baseboards,  (glittering grates radiant as sin)

                                            warm fires of hell

                                            conveyed the quickened breath

                                            of diligent devils to all.

When the heat shut off

everyone, in sacred silence, knew

death's sombre polity was nigh.

Blake

The feral silence of Angels

flooded his form.

Fens were drained like

faces of lost souls

beguiled by the 

Demonic din of Babel.

Sunstitched

 

Sunbrace

Her smile bright as milestones 

on steep sun dressed hillsides.

Sunspot amber eyes' shade

with the grace of dawn's rays.

Clusters of stars flare 

in her heavenly hair

twisting gaily in 

Etesian air.