Page

the page is a

tourniquet -

bleached

radiated –

I press it

in a fury

against the

surface wound,

fleshless void

that will not bleed –

numb necrosis,

pray in leashed

animal tongues –

that it may

draw

 and drain –

the splash of

tainted excess

onto

sterile warp

and weft      

©

Again

walking a mile
in clumsy
dreamers stilettos
i smell the
motel breath
of paid passion,
play marionette to
the drum’s
compulsion -
umbilical wine
on my tongue…
and sashay on to the
peddlers den
to lose those
shoes
in a gamble

with mercy.            

©

Arid

I don’t have

It -

that

tonic,

balm,

elixir

 

your gaping

maw

would drink

in

long gulps and

 

violent

starveling

kisses -

promising

depletion

©

Serpent suppers

honeyed
 tongues roll
around my disgrace
and lack
of gratitude
each salivatory touch
a hiss

and
              all/every/no matter
becomes the mantra
of my tainted desire -
i am devoured
from the lungs
down
breath first,
tail saved for
the kiss
of your tribe,
a cage in your zoo
with plates of
bunnies
to sate me -
white-hearted
and wailing

©

Scratch

Scratch

a horse hair shirt

tugged and smoothed

to little avail

dreaming

of feather down

or the pleasure

of being

simple…

understand?

and laughter

and wit

and Gods!

what i

would do

for a sliver

of amusement

irreverent

and true -

you understand…

of course

that it could be

me

who

zipped up

pissed off

forgot

your sweet name

at the door?

metaphorically

it probably was…

has it been

as good

for you

as it has

for me?

©

Empowerment

Empowerment

oh god!
covered by beauty
so captivating it terrifies -
searing skin
encircling the spine
in effervescent
ecstasy,
breath
is a blue vapour
on the windowpane…
dependant on the mercy
of release -
i am a sphinx
crouched and defiant,
(passion is the vault of grace)
a picasso in surreal thumb prints
- a child – defeated
and cleansed
- a daffodil – in winter bloom
i am filled -
again

Transkei burial

insignificant

asphalt offering..

ruby

dross –

a dirt bound

insignificance

to

wise

and holy men –

rides

fragmented

on the wandering

heels of

progress –

but

 knows the secret

of feathered wombs

and infinite worlds

sandwiched

between her

and I .

 

©