I carried your tobacco pipe
Like a diamond on my mind,
Two puffs and a closed grip
Ricochet all security
Through the back door:
And we pass it on
As night songs
From a holy tent with a view
That lisps night skies
Through dreams of a far off land
But hold me, hold on
Hold the flowers
Growing here so wild
In the palm of your hand
Until it stains your closed grip
The colour of my dream.
I don’t want to make my way in a barren landscape
The thought overwhelms me, loses my hope.
It loosens my grip and forces me
Into an unforgiving reality
That stops at every stop sign,
Red lights my deepest dreams,
And perpetuates my winter footsteps,
Fading to black.
You clawed my earth with your sharpened talons,
Piercing skin and lapping this dripping blood.
I wasn’t a victim, no, I was the victor!
Not a gram spoiling as bones were licked like molasses;
Surviving and thriving. Delving.
Gripping tight, and expecting evermore.
I’m out of grip, I’m a loser.
I’m love out of line.
I saw stars out tonight
Which was right on time.
Thick cut for unappointed misery
Two stripes down the line.
Today I go into beyond,
Parting heavy gates.
Closed last season.
This strong grip.
What lifted my spirits
Above swords so sharp,
To plunge back down
Into death so brown.
Here I grow
Beyond my heart.
Lost to earth.
Bound with opal strings
I gaze into my holder.
Eyes so strong.
Until I smooth clean off
Like rolling fog,
Smothering my choice.
Rooted deep within all circles of evil
Crawling on all fours for much better grip
Lurking with anticipation for a glimpse of weakness
The eye of the beholder is critically acclaimed
Soap and suds and weakness of knees
Sprinkled with the disaster of planned picnics
Try the harlequin approach; matted and mixed
Speak of the devil, sins approached epic; unheard
Socialize, civilize, advocate, demonize
Restate the obvious for clandestine passengers
Gargle the soul out from under the skies
Reign down your thunder with an eclipse and blunder
The days parade has slid away quietly
Marching bands stopped for swill; a plunder
Phallic imaginations carrying symbols
You’re young, your day will soon come
I saunter carelessly along
Foolishly grasping breath
Ignoring grins that seem too long
Madly in love with the music above
But too, not now, it’s you
A grip; sweaty. clammy
Clearly heated but determined
There shall not be a rousing interest
Shake the leather-ed look
Grasping grains and falling straws
Do all but hold up
Once were draped
In epic goodness
Now below as epic rawness