Short poems

GENERATOR

 

2014-08-09 15.59.22

GENERATOR

Mister Holiday the time was not ready

To board the mystery floating, earth defying genius.

To elevate the presence to pressures, other than daily wrangling.

Pursuing the bashed out loneliness born of suffocating power.

 

Remember poisonous dust rising from the desert of desire,

Consuming the tree in chest’s passive receiver.

 

Dead on arrival

Ending on entrance

A bow with no applause

A journey to follow a fresh thought of remembrance;

Walk with and away from sadness.

 

Roots can grow deeper in darkness

Hunting for moisture to replenish disaster

Magnificent renewal, abundant reviving

Design new labels to hang on respondents.

 

Meet the maker, it’s wings’ unfolding

With crimson opening and trembling cloisters

Played in conception; shaped as jewelled lovers

Popping from explosions replacing the blank space

Life’s a generator.

 

August 9th

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