Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Now I understand

What the angel tried to say to me

The purple angel with singed wings,

And now I have to take my life

As your lovers often do,

And you still stand so close,

And my fingers can almost touch

The amber- coral smell of you.

You tantalise without meaning to,

Or do you know I pine.

The purple angel nods.

She has burned too,

And knows a devil or two.

And as moments spin themselves into hours,

And the another nights dies a fruitless day,

I have made myself a bundle of foolishness

Called love

And I wait

For you to throw me away,

For in spite of what the tired purple angel says,

I have to learn to die this time,

I am going to burn my wings in your fiery cool.

Now I understand,

That I have to take my life,

As your lovers often do.


Square fingers, square toes,

I tread the soil of my soul.

I prepare to follow my nose,

Down the yellow brick road,

All this while she stayed indoors

With her doors shut windows closed

And I like a fool, peeped and probed

With my square old fingers ands toes,

She refused to let me grow,

I writhed on the floor,

And waited outside her door

An eternity and four

As she left a bloody trail,

On the soil of my soul,

And I forgave her some more.

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Thursday, December 07, 2006

The lazy smell creeps through the GAP,

And my body runs for cover,

My mind is now a blue purple FOG

The day is just half over.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

My wish tonight,

A green wall high,

My fingers don’t reach

The other side,

And the nest rests,

On the green wall high,

And orange flowers bloom

On the other side,

Let me live a night,

In its citrus light,

Give me a push towards,

The green wall high,

Where rests a nest,

Overlooking the orange delight,

My wish tonight,

To scale a green wall high,

Help me climb

A green wall high,

My wish tonight,

Before I cry.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Cold hungry November lions

Cold hungry November lions

Perched up on my mind

Leap at the thought of

Your return to my womb,

And prepare to feed.

Dead scattered brown backyard

Swaying in the autumnal wind

Moves an inch closer to the road,

Awaits your return to my grave,

Where I still live.