»
Archives
»
Open Poetry #36
»
does one ever know?
| Open Poetry #36 |
|
does one ever know? |
|
|
LeeJ Member Patricius
since 2003-06-19
Posts 13296
|
impregnated knowledge a magical stronghold in hills of love beautiful maidens in man dreams hang winter cloths on a hook luggage stands empty walking shoes look in a suitcase rolling their eyes mumbling private decorums as darkness gloats flashes of Fatima against my window sill like a label marked “Urgent” I think, they live in together like exceptional individuals lives that miraculously intersect I hear a loud watch, absorbing time Egyptian shamans pray to the mightiest of gods… writing calligraphy across my Achilles like an encyclopedia with magic expression gutting my closed bedroom door as white flaked avalanches erase narrow toothed, chattering blizzards drawing candles that flicker heat waves like an old friend, waving hello I scrap for crumbs Underneath play stations of childhood as a woman from Harvard screams hysterically.. something about her dreams being raped by genitals of transformation, into over heated cathedrals i think she gravitates her own weather with square, honky-tonk blue fingers yes, blue, that matches with nothing cept her own muse’s prefrontal lobotomy did you know wandering lambs, trade books for a thirsty past, of skull & bones something that was forced on them aficionados which now fly into the claws of wolves, who bury them in the world’s back yards so no one hears about it on the news? they rest, you know, like a shoulder bag with a red lined silver case waiting to unravel the boundaries between dimensions and the human race who wears perforated rubber gloves? so, fusion with shadows of green can make genitics, seep into mature echoes, for life…floating in and out of consciousness…like a Victorian draped tablecloth, injecting some local anesthesia into sensation…sensations that are alive & well with reality… transitional meditations of life pulling back giant drapery allowing light to pour into our evil little rooms…. I find, they are not lost as some people might surmise… but…building into moments of symbolic art like a pre Raphaelite brotherhood bulging in man’s body guarded by Knights of the Templar waiting to be born and move in all directions holding solidly, set screws of God’s genetics human images in torn bits of cloth stuck in a crack of rippling seas seas nagging like an optomistic intrigue tilting, to affirm disembodied voices gloriously surrogating a faint brightening of the sky they lay silent to a sleeping world for now… they carry lunch kettles, to keep fresh any positive fall out golden hair spirals over opposing mores, not unlike a new tower of Babel collecting the perceived and unperceived worlds lifting, through, chimneyed dimensions like drunken god’s, holding their own gargoyles on a leash, while sprinkling holy water over tongue-tied languages, languages that unites moral and immoral corridors of underwater lights… deep caves of the unthinking making the mythical city of Atlantis into a crossing bridge of some divine hotel parking lot They’re security sipping wine like friendly ex-lovers, remembering all the reasons why they were attracted to each other… then….all indifferences combine into something sweetly good… knowing it was just one of those surprisingly warm winter nights prophesizing, the long awaited phenomenon, of bouncy spring only this spring, will be the exception it will be of greatness, profound a gratification that exceeds making love a spiritual profligacy and it is then I know those sly wolves were supposed to bury those so called fanatics so “tonight”, i ponder with a smile, we sleep with all those dead bolts unlatched… |
||
| © Copyright 2005 Lee J. - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
babygirlwlove Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180New York City |
wow~ this is rich and lush with visuals ...ascends the spirit...like prayer... wow~ ~babygirL |
||
SEA 
Moderator
Member Seraphic
since 2000-01-18
Posts 22676with you |
this has so much ... I will be reading this one again and again....  excellent. |
||
Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
"writing calligraphy across my Achilles like an encyclopedia with magic expression gutting my closed bedroom door as white flaked avalanches erase narrow toothed, chattering blizzards drawing candles that flicker heat waves like an old friend, waving hello I scrap for crumbs" ~and I'll search these blue floors for whatever crumbs you may kick my way~  Lee, this is a keeper, and then some "we sleep with all those dead bolts unlatched…" damn, but that is such a great line!  |
||
|
nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
I hear a loud watch, absorbing time as do I..and I love the last lines... You pack so much into a poem, I shall have to return to digest some more.  M |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
