Bright Lights and Roundabouts

aDarkerMind



bright lights and roundabouts;

look down this city's thumbnail as she sleeps.

no wide-awake can see her

green as snake; charming as the horse's eye.

blood-orange flames her palm prints

through kiss-and-tell to tickled bone,

sucking left-side golden taproot, her,

hours-glass on the thin side of the knick-knack tree

pipes her half-starved eyelids

dull as stone, bright as keys

her house of pregnant plums where claws her turtle-neck;

half-house her own; half someone else.

her scarlet eyes trace footprints to her wedgewood sea

where greet-boy's dry-roast thirteen rose-buds

dead as winter's spleen;

All Hallows Eve,

Jack-o!-Lantern trumpets tamborine!

treat or trick; candy-seed greets Halloween;

Soul cakes her morning flakes for beggars buggered-up routine

jumps eye-balls crisp as candy

now the randy men drink diesel as the ghouls smack terpentine.

spank man or moon, only hollow men,

  turn Winter Summer Wine.

how dead All Saint's this day, now

our city sleeps her thumbnail, as

the dead sleep-crawl and slither with the knees

of knock-kneed pimples surrogated brothers to our trees,

wear masks of ghouls to pacify our land of sex and crawl.

how sweet this city tastes when finds,

the bison with one ball!

feed us this day our daily bread,

fishmonger born-n-bred;

give us the ghost of Halloween,

and we will cut off both his heads!

Halloween

when love bleeds death

when death breaths love

no man will rise above;

we have only seeds of darkness

and one brain to give away!

 

 

 

 

 

 

  • Author: Melvin James (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 19th, 2021 16:23
  • Comment from author about the poem: L.B.....part two. treat or trick?
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 29
  • User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments2

  • L. B. Mek

    'hours-glass
    on the thin side of the knick-knack tree
    pipes her half-starved eyelids
    dull as stone, bright as keys

    her house of pregnant plums where claws her turtle-neck;
    half-house her own; half someone else.

    her scarlet eyes trace footprints
    to her wedgewood sea
    where greet-boy's dry-roast
    thirteen rose-buds

    dead as winter's spleen;'
    Brilliant!
    (and you even managed to keep the thirteen theme!
    thank you, my friend
    this was the spiked punch, I was looking for
    to juxtapose my tepid vanilla)
    'what a Talent!'

    • aDarkerMind

      a write inspired by, and dedicated to, a poet i have been luck enough to find;
      thank you L.B.

    • queenjojo

      wow love this so deep

      • aDarkerMind

        thank you for your kind words, much appreciated.

        • queenjojo

          welcome



        To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.