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

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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

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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
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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

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Honey Suckle Princess

 

 

Nectar Magician …..she

white witch

swings her honeycomb wishes

made of violin

spilling herself

to the voice of god

of sweeping stone notes

singing pink

harvesting air

and a strand of honeysuckle thinking

a loosely braided story

preserved in

HOT

butterscotch

crackling

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