When the words left you,
when one average morning
they rammed themselves
into large shuttles
...
Did your thoughts form images
of soil-brown nails
and gaunt, slippery features
when you read 'that' word?
...
Arm yanked by taunt lead,
The dog heaves.
You reply with unsteady feet.
...
1. A Mothers Approval
I wiped kisses from a cold oak crucifix,
the residue of cocaine stinging
...
In these dripping tap days
he and silence have companioned.
Content to blow smoke in
...
Morning creeps upon us suddenly:
mimicking deaths technique.
Opening smudged eyes
we happen upon emptiness.
...
Forgive me, for at the end of this poem
you shall not see my name
For I fear your sister Fate
Is at times a little over zealous
...
My fingers ache for the taste of grass
I dream of dawn and garden flowers
There is nothing to do but remember.
...
“What is life’s worth if not trudging the infinite circle
of grief and contentment and all sensation in-between “.
...
Gone and sure to be forgotten! http: //fortherainfromthegrave.blogspot.com/ vincent entilted For the Rain From The Grave- its a collection of poems which deal with the concept of death and how we proccess and live through it. please take a look if you so wish...)
Stroke
When the words left you,
when one average morning
they rammed themselves
into large shuttles
of parting dialect
you bore the look
of suprise
like a lion felled.
The slack of your mouth
like an overused elastic band
made movements
of comedy.
The spittle worming
from the split of your lip
like frothy milk
down the side of a mug-
Karmas encore.
You'd refused to move
from your chair
as if to hold the truth
in its physical form
containing it like a raging child
but the dart of your eyes
spoke otherwise.
How unlike you
not to say a word
how fine to see
the flapping fish of your tongue
motioning nothing
but sporadic slaps
of wet muscle-
Useless and defunct.
very nice and touching to the soul, its very motivated as well. alot in common...