Before time
the enclosed garden tremors
and a Lily opens…..
inviting conception
a personal illuminati
a patent
a pact
a private love making
just Me ‘n God
behind patterned screens
the burgeoning idea
levitates
and
then
drawing his Saber
like Obi One Kenobi
HE WHIPS
the halo from my head
pink and silver streak
to far heavens
inside me
like ecstasy
like frisbee frenzy
the veil falls
like crystal singing
my cells
divide
and I become
Yes
the blood that leaks a thousand fish is mine ……..!
AND I wield the glinting weapon that falls
upon your upturned face.
Lit by scented moonlight we are one
and that is the price,
your innocence is molasses, and I the thick-tongued cow
that laps you up!
My consciousness performs,
a conflicted melody
a lighthearted ballet,
perhaps Coppelia’
in the face of choice and personal responsibility,
for… the blood….
the murderous thoughts…..
Within our own anthill
the ocre dust stirs,
the world we give permission for speaks,
simmer down….
reduce violent thoughts
however justified we think they may be…..
Suddenly and defiantly
we ring, we spill
and IN floods the light
revealing polished palms.
~suspended~
it is an unlikely animation
a milky cartoon
free seeming
yet
secured by
ribbons
connected to indigo chariots
the colour
not the speed
provided by snails or gods
you know,
with
glowing shells
BUT
remember please
we are more than shell
we are the red gold life that flourishes in coral and floats
bouyed on salt
singing
and squealing
we are fertility
coating the sun and disappearing
only
momentarily
Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told
Haikus Senryus and Tankas about anything and everything
Poetry
musings on life | bits of psychology | attempts at poetry
In other countries individuals go to jail and/or die for weblogging. While the bulk of this country makes the internet an extention of T.V.
Let me inspire the possibility of what could be
"where creativity roams free"
The Poetry Monarch.
Sometimes serious, often humorous personal musings on life, death, and everything in between from someone once chased by a killer Canadian goose.
JEFF CALLAWAY
Darkness, delusion, smeared with a stick of butter and laughter. Words collide, they bring forth death!
Hoping to inspire the world one word at a time.
Sharing my poetry to help end the stigma about mental health
well, come on in. bite. chew. spit.
He started Writing, The paper started speaking...
