aDarkerMind

Illusions Bite



illusions bite. bullets bark

the tortured wind of hindsight deep as arms length

cannot the crow fly heath to the heavy lie?

must the bright cheer of the plain wood suffer saddles sores?

as sly as fox inside the dam of the beavers bend

the hopscotch boy in the girls brains slight of hand

deals somerset a stuffed hair for a straight lift

lets loose his clown of afterthought on the clays drip;

 

look back beyond the iron bridge to the rice between her eyes

her milk-white flesh perched perfectly on the horny cobb

her toes both lord and mistress to the threaded walk of knighthood

as she ties her bootleg charm to necks of third in line

her third breast dressed in arab blood on a snow pea

riding missionary with the guard dog in his pierced ears

he has been to war and back with tattooed chauffer to the walk

with pink fairies in his guts his grandfather in his shoes;

 

clock bell to the nations trust inside the courtyard of the swine

spring cabbage from the jail of allotments lettered kale

fail offspring and the tallest gods will guess and reign sublime

find bride of cinderella in the emo of your groin

watch her knit and scrarch her half-mast steeples spawn of frog and gripe

swallow thorn of mistletoe and gargle oil of serpentine

the moon has got his hat on

hip hip hip hooray!

and the sun has got her butt-plug

and she's comming out to play!

 

fear not defence of country leech dishonour

flavour peasants wine with charcoal brown as huntchback

run to parks as bearded queen with armpits shaved and photograps

of the butler gay as budgies on a dead zone

home pigeon pie in the arms of southern comfort

my eyes of gin in love with the feet of orange peel

my lemon pith as homeless as my lands mine

a bitter drunk beneath the bridge of married london;

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments2

  • Teddy.15

    home pigeon pie in the arms of southern comfort

    my eyes of gin in love with the feet of orange peel

    my lemon pith as homeless as my lands mine

    a bitter drunk beneath the bridge of married london


    You have given me a restbite from my aching to be home in London with this Artful poetry dear Melvin. Yes there were many times I too was legless under a bridge in true style and in metaphor, thank you. Your title is also perfect.

    • aDarkerMind

      my memories of life in London Teddy.
      some wonderful and sometimes scarey...
      above all, a beautiful city to be;

    • L. B. Mek

      good to let that Goth we all harbour, out
      from time to time, if kept repressed
      it will fester and poison every aspect of our lives..
      strong imagery, 'aDarkerMind': indeed...
      'what a Talent!'
      (and there's many a drunken poet, by London's bridges
      its just that, for most
      it takes them getting completely bladdered, before
      they gain the freedom
      to express themselves, without curating
      their words and thought's, to be in-line
      with the majority herd, they so desperately
      feel the need, to belong to...)

      • aDarkerMind

        thank you L B Mek.
        let off a little ''goth steam'' here;



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