Humanist diction

Humanist diction

Hothouse smoke on tits
To suckle my casque with lips
Scudding the inhaled down wrested lifeforce
We gainsay this morality terse

Open our hearts to Christ
Attend our childrens baptism
Holding their tiny heads in cistern declarem
Our open hearts of Christ!

Here my kindred gather on lee
For these humid breathes scintillated
We shall overcome in streets
Talk hoary misguided attempts

And lavish ones love on sore pedals
Oiled rubicund modish belief
Burdened our force on earth
Wreathed gravid to fall, defeated

Shall we roar up our greek antiquities
Pensmith a serif in epic meanderings
To justify this abusive nonchalant orgy
Triggering our erected waddled color

Tolling dearly in necessity of brevity action,
Our chest hold within this fracture sanctuary
Mediums of selenium, meager shavings of lead,
Please render us clay in your hands

And guide us nearsay to the gentian blooms
That adjourn our seclusion
An acumen heart of Benedictine monk
That we pray, to feel weary in honest mirth

Human words lost, unrendered
Perferations of ink

out to pasture

out to pasture

the weary blackened souls crisscross across the terrace
careful to avoid the shadowed remnants adorning the field,
they hold onto satchels, sacks of soot and tired raingear
hoping for one more taste of their atmospheres sweet juice,
tonguetied and stuckout they scoot, born in this meadow
they've meandered on earth in humble malfunction

"anne?" a soothsayer with bandaged eyes emits
"Did someone call Ruth? I'm just over here!" but for her,
she cannot hear and no one is wiser for a reply,
as aloof a calm boarish gent in overalls bent
cupped up the trampled clover, resurrected its 4th leaf,
and with this gesture, a bluebird could be seen on horizon

it gathered up the updraft, and then hurled out of sight
to fly an unknown path around market scouring for invertebrates,
it knew not when to perch or when to decry its attempts as for not
a wounded buzzard become it kept blistering on
and the old women gathered and knit this feather fallen
engrossed it within their tapestries not knowing its bloodlet endeavor

Long this pitch of broken changelings stretched
the harpsichord, a grammaphone, a bored out mortar
lone bent collumn of grooves
indented the path of a little lost maiden traipsing her clogs
in every trip, she sensed a small bliss of a tune
tried humming it outloud and went mute

for not, as old wicker basket salsemen propped on tangled root
orated solemly his predictions of future harvest,
gathered forth a small crowd of pitchfork and rye
a stung redflesh muddied in blotches, perked up
believed from his these stories of blessing days
where one would reap a lore of ones kindred hand firm

terra formed and all along these high vaunted planes
an odifourous incense fumigated the air
it was deep within lungs, singed their skeletal organs
it brought them all together in hapless pleasure
the borders of which were becoming encroached
and not but one of these misformed creatures

ever desired
to move forward from the said dowry of attempt,
and a lame boy riding unshod painthorse latched on to crumpled page
and read forth this poem

these barren mothers
these broken backs
we share together
in our small of laughter
in our chipped tooth grin
to keep in favor

our warm hands
clasped in crippled finger
we will not release
please, oh father
delight us again on sunset
show us once more your love

bring us our storks of fortune
on the coo, this listful breeze
for we are meek and dying
breathing in ribbed asunder
oh joy, oh love, oh fortune
send us your favor

bring love again, bring warmth

he stopped and dismounted
prostrated himself wet earth
to sorry to see the merry ants
who continued to build their castles
and he wept their trails away
a cursed bonded lament

unfinished mara sequence

unfinished mara sequence


1

To the vino stained sheets of brasov
I've soiled the street children with their painted rags,
my listless lollygags rousing those awful cobblings
chasing after a fleeced moldovia
where sweet mara unabashed sat on balcony
watching me write, humming herself a delicious tone
beyond my reach she brushed her succulent boisenberry locks

out of a decayed danube to prance on a balled up paper
I must have left behind when fighting off those urchins
she unwraps with milky condolence to the shattered words
for her to read, oh mara, I have hidden your poems
tied them deep inside this black church of a heart
that you, to knock feverishly for sanctuarary
I will unwrap these stares and ask, to hold your hand

feel this silken love strung fortune reading across water,
a sea of your hair in my eyes wrapped up leggy stagger
to escort in fine fashion our mingling of placed ballet
lusted for dry red romani wine, a pelter in silver spoon
I imbibe in your creamy countenance frozen in your eyes,
to mirror our lost happenstance of meeting here, in brush
air to heir this our moment, where we shall love again

2
the twin I choose has a sweeter smile,
an unused sense of roses
for whilst pricking pinky I suckle
this savored blood berry
swishing around cherry in palatte
I no longer choice her skin
for her soft contour is growing garden
a lighter shade her smile
is all I lack as photographer

for of the two I bury with her
a seedling of pure love fiborous
to dangle an earth worm her small promise
she blooms, mara for all of her fruits
showering us spring green a new bud
her special lest this world doppleganger
to conceal her from others in shoulders
te her to my chest this lovely breast
sing both our portraits this pairing

together
we flower