Blooderfly eyry

Palms to the sky, he questions and suffers ex animo; his ullage ever deepening, as cerise streaks escape his stretch, assoiling torturous trespasses

Disdainful dissatisfaction flutters from the alabaster perches, offering a brilliant contrast to the cerulean above and cimmerian within

A blooderfly eyry where he stands, while he withers, sins taking flight from grieving scars and open wounds, on the gale of his penances and profanities

This moribund monstrosity – a manic, maudlin menagerie – seeks forgiveness in his own infandous sacrifice, with pillars of rust and moons of salt

He melts into the earth, a deliquescing denouement, bathed in ignominy, wallowed in repentance, and forgotten by memory and futurity

art: by Zao Wou-Ki

2L2S

Will I feel more than pain, will I cease to exist

Will my memories forsake me when the moment comes to pass, must my memories be forsaken to see the moment through

Do I follow to conclusion the natural path, do I rush to hasten the stroke of time’s impassive hand

Will I grieve for myself and what I might have been, will I rejoice in the unknown and what I might become

Will I melt into the embrace of a grander scheme, will I lose who I am to commune with oblivion

To love or to suicide

art: street photo 04 by Lee Jeffries

Annularity

At the ineluctable end of his penannular path, he glares into the blackened filth of the gap, now merely six feet deep; never satisfied, nor fulfilled, nor complete

Unrested grains of sand felled at the edge, presaged his harrowing horizon; he’ll close this opening, this rift, this gift, a final offering to the aedicula beckoning

Bound by obeisance to life’s sisyphean shackles, pushing regret and sorrow ahead of time, filling the once bottomless abyss with a bounty of abysmal alterity

A resting place after a restless journey; lying atop failure upon forfeit; decaying compost his only contribution; his body, a bridge, naturally spans into existential cyclicality

art: MF045 by Eric Lacombe

Madness

Blood filled her mouth, before spattering tea leaves and carmine weaves into the porcelain that steadfastly steadied her wavering savouring

Madness then took her hand, leading her through an oneiric wasteland; it beckoned spectres, who danced before them in sinister circles of möbius machinations

The coward cowered beneath ego and judgement, clawing the grip of Madness, tearing skin and tearing eyes, seeking elusive elucidation

She awakened, and welcomed, the taste of iron and fear; cool linoleum caressed her cheek, while her eyes reflected at the bank of incarnadine

No footfalls found her gaze, save the tracks she now embraced; then vaguely she wondered who it was that carried Madness, while Madness carried she

art: wordless in painful misery by Peterio

Dead canary

Stepping over innumerable dead canaries who bear my likeness strikingly, I embark once again on a perlous path thinking it my first bravery

As I approach a complex nexus of that which connects us to each other, I hear echoes from a voice redolent of mine, yet a mouth, I remember not

Chills consume me as I witness in the distant, stygian soot, hands holding, smiles growing, joy sowing, and life flowing; an eye witness to this, and to this, witless am I

The outline of a doorway burns through the ancient granite before my searing eyes; a load bearing wall shouldering the world, denying me a rapturous escape

I raise a hand toward the glowing brand and feel the warmth disabuse the darkness; a slideshow of impossibilities and impracticalities ensues

A bird man who flits and weaves through impotent masters and in-born disasters; a corruption of humanity who alights to the earth, in a cave, as a slave, to a grave

When only then I see my downy skin turning lemons and daffodils; I feel lightheaded, and fall toward the floor amidst the din of my tentative footsteps drawing nigh

art: by Zao Wou-Ki

Carrion on the carousel

Frustration rears its peerless fear as
fearless peers move forward; unveiling
avarice and hubristic expectation

He turns away his longing gaze in a
forfeit of forbearance; while life flies
by, his skin crawls to flee the flaying

Hidden eyes can’t hide the lies, when
time torments his tender flesh; through
tempestuously violent slipstreams

The gale of failure, whips like nine tails
in flagellatory avidity; the cat rending
meat from marrow, calm from sanity

A tumultuous duplicity of right and
wrong, outspread as wide asunder as
mytikas and tartarus, divinity and villainy

Confidence slain amid folly and shame,
only himself to blame; as the raptors
pick clean his final, delusional dream

No rousing claxon, no call to action; no
coming attraction or devilish distraction;
just night and day, carrion on the carousel

art: the cage by Peterio

Lost memories

He was once a boy, too,
Although I didn’t know him then
He was never one to share
His how, his why, or when

He grew
He loved
He lost,
He reared
He lived
He died.

Scattered in the mountains,
On an autumn’s austral breeze
What then became the resting place,
For his lifelong memories

His first scraped knee
His first real kiss,
His first broken heart
His dearest bliss,
His deepest passion
His darkest abyss.

I’ll never know of his best day,
Or if he recalls when last he cried
I’ll never know what he thought of me,
Or hear of the childhood he hid inside

I only have my own memories,
Which is half our story’s tale
Perhaps one day we’ll catch up,
In an austral mountain gale

art: Autumn Descends by Tracy Webb