…AwTwiHi-Ho (I) The Awakening, The Twilight & The hidden.

Duel- tacticionary.

Quite the perplexing plexi-glass, sweat ’til you can bottle it.

In the crampest cracks of temperate max, I’ve surely just forgotten about it.

These starts and crosses, The gleam and shine, The zebra crossing, The thin blue line.

The seven awaken, the twilight dwindles and burns. But the controls of the hidden

Takes four-five to learn.

I’ve stolen a fragment. Well Buckaroo. Inside the music of the well.

There’s fuck-all else to-do.


I’m so pecé, it’s still good.
Alas, sweet read. I dig your hood.

Advertisements

…The Attic (I) Thoughts about Animal farm…

You’re so chatty, it’s unbearable.
There aren’t words, but you’ll find them eventually.

From there it’s a bit of a blur really.
You’re constant– you’ve always sort ofbeen around.

Didn’t see where you’d come from, or where you’ve gotten to.
Always kind of meant to, just never quite got around to it.

You’re blinding, it’s annoying, actually.
You’ve always moved with colours following your fluidity, and whatnot.

My, that got away from me for a second there. Geez.
What was I saying again? Wait, no. Don’t help me!

You’re tending your wounds, and I was never really conscripted.
It urks me some, but what doesn’t.

If I were to sum you up in three words,
Those words would be silent, but meaningful.

Softly, softly.
I wonder what you’d say.

…Flights of Fantasy (VIII) Everything must go…

No returns

Your divinity is lived-in
There’s a mark upon serenity.
The fire-sale can begin
Anything but the vanity table.

Conscience Make an offer
Loyalty, if you can find it
Goes with all your clobber
Especially with patience to wind it up...

I don’t know how the mug got in there…
That’s not for sale.

well-being’s a bargain.
Intention’s seen better days.
The bric-a-brac, like hope and that…
left over from my convention days

Few scuffs around the edges, mind.
The virtues could use a varnish.
You’ll find the peace is missing some.
The sanctity’s all tarnished.


Anything can be good with garnish — give it time.

…The Middle Ground (V) Hardly the time…

20150428_141627Interesting creatures
Adorable features
Unsure of their roar
As they howl ‘neath the bleachers

Speaking of seating
wherever their reach is
Keen when in breech of the peace
Just so long as it pleases    20150428_141642

What color should the third verse be
…Are you kidding?
I didn’t write a third verse.
There wasn’t time.

…Flights of Fantasy (IV) This time round…

How do we go?

i. Careless care-packing– not what I’d asked for.
Better, actually. Noodles. We’re nowhere if not stuck in a dorm.

Interesting shapes and textures all in all.
Just the distraction from the tables and chairs
In delicate sprawl about the dining room.

ii. Stand ready, men.
There’s a soldier in your ranks after all.
And when he’s through with your stomachs
–he’ll start on the rest of you


20150422_201947


Drop and give me ten excuses.
Stop when you’re half-way through —
This was a drill.
The real thing is much less recognisable.

iii. Hand-prepped words.
Peppered wisps, about poultry puffs of smoke.

Mine has no interest in being cured.
Now leave me to my madness!
Loose Women is on.

…Flights of Fantasy (III) Charm-bracelet…

SCREW CAPS

She bought the wrong toothpaste.
I picked up the wrong lightbulb.
She gets upset when I don’t reply quickly.
I ignore the toothpaste.

We work better with screw caps anyway.

Induction

This is where we came in.
Not the royals.
Or the unwashed poor.
You’ll find your complimentary mug in the bag under your desk.

It’s where you’ll be sleeping for the foreseeable.

Seriously… SCREW CAPS!

This inflection means that I am loud.
Not angry.
Not excitable.
Screw it.

You knew that anyway.


but welcome to the conversation…

/[vL]

…The words turn about the axis (XVII) The Borderline…

Play for powers– lasts for hours
Wetter, pet, in April showers.

Lapping up irrelevance
Map left, right? Make sense.

Forecast claim– it follows. And tracks
This house is kept clean. No watch for the bats.

The owl is in season. The hat he supposes.
It’s cozy in Winter, miss. The door you chose– his.

Spring forth in season, miss.
It’s the one you didn’t notice.

Madness is missing in action, in fact.
His dagger is absent.
Without you he’ll leave.
Argue? I’ll let you.

He’s far away, playing a day.
With a card that upset you.

Cross the border-collie with whatever breed you find.
Sharpies keep the order, hun. We’ve no lines in mind.

Irreverant words missed.
Who’s in charge of house-keeping?

I suspect at the leavers’ do, feed will be splayed.
In advanced position, she posts to you.

but you never make the grade.
He still listens to you.

…Stupid Dog.