keep it low level
and subdued
enough below notice
people don't
but are changed nonetheless
creep in like mice
and chew wiring
no one knows they need
until it fails
do not ask permission
commit violence
quiet and soft
as snow falling
outside the window
changing everything
secretly
like the bunched duvet
you left behind to haunt me
memory of wood
sucked dry by the thirsty flames
left ghost, a haunting
shaped from the fire's soft grey tears
collapses empty
beneath the settling structure
we carefully built
later i'll make the spare bed
leave ours your lost body's cave
If you look carefully, you will see that the bottom half is an open book, with an illustration on the left and text on the right. The top half are two different pieces. Using various manipulations, I blended common elements, that give it a bit more unity.
The book is an interesting curiosity, that somehow ended up in my collection from previous generations. It is a Russian 1928 edition of Dominion by J F Rutherford ~ early Jehovah Witness proselytizing.
Beautifully bound with an #EmbossedCover, and colour #BookPlate#Illustrations. I’ve been tempted to use it for altered book art, but for now, just scans for collage work.
that liminal moment where i had to rearrange all my unconsciously reconstructed memories to match where it actually came from again was certainly A Moment
Three Curlew, a skylark
And a song without words
Both mournful
And triumphant
Floating
like a ship of dreams
Over the misty ocean.
Summer green
Brightens the morning
Chases the gloom away
And the pull of the hill
Is easing.
The air is full
Of the scent of the mow
But I'm up to my waist
In buttercups and lace
And deep in my heart
I know. #poetry
fuzzy-edged distortion
your hands warm in my hands
we breathe across the sky
foraging for dreams we misplaced
and forgot the flavours of
drift smoke-light across dusks
each more heartbreakingly beautiful
singing tales soft
we hope and fear are heard
and dread hearing bounced back
from uncaring slabbed dullness
we dissolve and fizz
edges like ash exhilarating
in spin and drift
sometimes it's easier to hold on
than it is to see you
decay deep covered
beneath skin so plump and smooth
they hope no one notices
their sweet corruption
and no one does - a fragile
mind fist and language fractured
haunted by almosts
possessed by musts, shoulds, and nots -
has built from kicked-in windows
a rain of keen blades -
all that fertile soil poisoned
to grow lying heavy plants
overripe, slick, bursting
fingers intertwined
a grabbed hold, a salt thirsting
the room half lit by streetlight
focused race towards
somewhere we both have to be
familiar yet new again
For several million years, we’ve bowed to fate,<br></br>we’ve been locked in an arms race eons old.<br></br>It’s only now we can retaliate<br></br>against the architect; we’ve rolled<br></br>the dice of evolution many times,<br></br>and been subjected to its harsh selection.<br></br><br></br>We’ve been the victim of its many crimes.<br></br>Now we’ve perfected our means of protection,<br></br>and tamed the outer world – but not the inner.<br></br><br></br>This life belongs to you, the fittest ape,<br></br>in this long game you are the winner –<br></br>you are the pinnacle and can escape<br></br>the chains of selfish interest placed at birth:<br></br>create the world you wish to see on Earth.<br></br>
Utterly gorgeous
Cornflower blue
Cloudless
The softness of cool
On the summer breeze
May in her glory
Dancing in her joyful
golden fields
Hedgerows bright with
White lace shimmering
And heady
with the scents of spring
Hawthorns blush
With rosy tints
As deep within
The hidden wrens
tick like little clocks
Counting down the years. #poetry