Cat Tells Me Secrets

 

White whisker whispers

paw playfully

batting and nipping…..

These fluttering earlobes

catch butterfly

syllables,

this cat has secrets

and

her smile tastes wicked…

it is a stretching pink over

sharp, white

twinkles

glinting….

ahhh yes ….

this

tender wish

swims

vibrantly orange,

innocent

and

succulent.

Cleopatra

 

the asp was forced

into it’s devil role….

his shining body

pricking with intention

sliding through the folds of pathetic drama

to fulfil this desperate pantomime..

a reluctant

fictitious grief……love bite on her breast

and pharaohs shadow

a private dancer on the wall

tangled in hieroglyphic orders….

gold is swiped in sparkling distraction and crowns falter.

OUTSIDE….

the dark, the dusk

comforts and fills our lungs

with night magic and secret calm…..

crickets peddle their wares

and frogs croak distantly

smells of swamp fertility

mark our hearts with gentle peace

the nile slides black and full

lapping inky rhythm.

Back inside the guards are shouting

wine has spilled

and the golden breast fades into blue

her ego departs

none the wiser

to the lapis castle in the sky

 

 

one spark

 

wading through clouds

my balloon high on pity

this footprint is staining our

heavenly city

inside is out and outside is in

(that blast was so loud

it made sparks out of him!)

the lights

I can’t bear

as I cut through the sea

turning left at the sun

I melt into me

 

 

was she even there?

 

and do you think I could see her,

feel her

smell her?

do you think I could find her

flower-eyed

softness,

her flowing pelt,

her intrepid glee…?

I heard her purring,

permeating,

beneath me

I am sure,

within my  own blossoming pages…

still….

was she even there

or

was she just a wisp

a climbing, fleeting moment

of undue grace…   ?

meant to be

absorbed

 

dissolved

tasted

but

never

written

down

 

 

 

Ivory Elephant (again)

 

If you let someone love you will they wander off?

will they

get lost

or side tracked,

like I did when I was three at the market?

a tiny ivory elephant was

my desire

then,

the square of soap that smelt of sandalwood.

My loves, my treasure.

If I am someone’s

ivory elephant

will they leave me?

to fall through the cracks

in the back seat of a purple station wagon

maybe…..

and maybe they will remember me one day,

maybe they will remember me fondly.

Envelope

OPEN this envelope

and in the smooth

yet sharp cornered sheets,

between the scent of fingertips

beyond the spreading ink

is poetry, sapling green

with story fine tears

blood crimes and flowers fight to reveal

each a resplendent joy…..

so sniff it,

and then tip it

to release

a flow of tiny wise stars

Awaken

 

disappearing bones

of petal strength

and crushed colour

fitful pastel thought

shaping over walls

and the creeping sound

that moves you

and presses you,

slinging into you,

the very song you dream of purging….

and still

in ten thousand years

we are found

mouthing words that bind our seemingly free

delivering

the sweet opiate

we swallow with our eyes squeezed shut

in order to continue throwing rice

instead dive

 

why not,

past the

clenching,

 

and pull the teeth that grind those vows

let it happen,

be water on this hardened page

Sacred

 

sacred

sacral

scared we shut our eyes

scarred we are numb

living in skin

evil is the lie we tell

santa is a jingle bell

in the rain of diamond Terra

shards to bring us into Firma

this storm

becomes me

a

satanic flowering 

revealing

in the raw

the luscious grief

god is salt upon my tongue

and

skin

and

goodness is a flood

remembering

dog my friend the only truth

digging

thought

through

dirt is my imagination 

rough

and behind this gem 

this blinking sapphire of a thing

we come together

strapped and aching

eyes shining at this

wide

and 

tidal

ruse

and in between the phosphorus sea

and line of pure shore

we stand

a momentary glitch

 

 

Playing Cards

can i say

what a flash spread!

while rippling fingers

shuffle air

my hearts are spinning

and jack is on the floor

What a ball!

beneath the table

The jokers

are composing

?

dirty thoughts …

The Harpsichord

is laughing

and we,

excessively dressed

tiptoe

with pompous wankery

all over

queenly flesh

Art Opens Me

 

Please visit my art website, brimming with visual healing and the tumescent colours of love, driven by desire to plumb the depths, I do it for you

 

Flayed by sable

spread with pigment

creamed by colour

wanton inking

apple green

stripped to my core

gasping for more

I dip

I fly

on archival wings

gouache lips

snaking and bouncing

dancing

on

wet

orange

feet

unbound by art

I am called