Eclipsed time

shotgun weddings with metal

brakes and the morning stars

will be gone in the

direction they are going 

– serpent like

the monsters are no longer under

beds

 

more, in the open,

stalking

silently
-the smell of a mothers breast

a shimmering glow – 

burst bubblegum 

an egg – cracked

-somewhere
you can hear cowboy priests

itchy fingers scratch scabs through

a monkeys mouth
the alarm never whispers

it screams –
crushed by headlines 

bold type shouting

gripped by a melancholy

 

– they’re everywhere –

behind towns in

plastics bags

with swimming fish –

a fairground prize –

big wheel lullabies –
warm milk trains run on parallel

tracks stopping cracks – 

paper cobbled stones

cardboard concrete

shanty town,

in the sleepy eyed dusk 

– a florescent strobe

Advertisements

4 comments

  1. multiplemichael

    God was breathing fire on the battlefield
    that was why the monsters were under the bed
    ——————–
    the faintest breath of life
    the bride and her sisters
    we were laughing at them before the shotgun ritual
    calling them the sisters of chaos
    little did we know what the future would unfold

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      unfold it did – unfold
      like table clothes for the feast
      the tanks rolled in
      the factories shut
      all those over the age of 15 were give guns and told to protect the city
      – the sisters of chaos line danced through the rubble of dead cities

      God breathed fire and scorched the sea

      Liked by 1 person

      • multiplemichael

        all those over the age of 15
        the dialogue of young lips
        with almost no knowledge of anatomy
        making the readers experience bawdy love
        original poetry—marvelous poetry
        reflecting mirrors in the honeymoon suite
        sex outside its proper framework
        grotesque strings of fluid
        soft flakes of tissue
        thicker cottage cheese
        the newspapers called it “WAR”
        the battlefield was the Theatre of the Absurd
        God was there in his Holy Rolls Royce
        absentminded at best
        man’s self image

        Like

  2. multiplemichael

    LIFE PASSES IN A SEQUENCE OF BORING AND ANXIOUS
    EXPERIENCES OVER WHICH THE POET HAS LITTLE CONTROL
    apes outside in the trees do things because they have to
    or because they expect some future benefit from it
    ———-gladiatorial romance on the honeymoon ?

    Like

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s