0 Novina Alfe
2016-02-16 12:00 am
Is it just enough to look at the roughness of your hands do you ponder over the texture complexion and remember how each scar got there do you take the time to examine who they loved and who they hate WHO tears they wiped away and on whose face I know you look at them often do you use them just to pray or used them to play with your prey amen do you use them to take pictures of the Sun when it rise do you use them to heal hearts or just leave marks on degraded body parts your hands your hands do you keep them clean have they shed innocent blood have they robbed the lowly one have they said hello thank you and please is the look of toughness just a disguise a way to fool people who sympathize with their eyes your hands your hands do you use them just to eat do they feed the needy do they try to make peace do you praise them for a job well done do you use them to raise a good son surely you let them rest after you just bust one and by bust I mean nutt and by nutt I mean there's nothing new under the Sun so how do you plead guilty or innocent Mr mirror man do you have killing or healing hands
Gord
2015-01-28 12:00 am
Part the hanging gardens, All found there is song, Dogs, frauds and Sean John. Apart from obvious tone, Birds clamor to sing along. Screaming from bottom o'lung. Risks taken, Praying prone. Laying open with only hope. Hopefully a prayer is answered, Pampered enough to count to atone.
The Paraffin One
2014-09-18 12:00 am
A bridge too far is a bridge too far. Simply put it goes beyond. Unnecessarily a player struggles, To play an off-key yawn, Play chords, save the trouble. Nobody listens anyway inside of a bar. Bridges that lead to beyond, Then abruptly end in the sea. Why turn from sea so calm? You could jump to freedom.
The Sophist
2014-08-27 12:00 am
What differs us; Introspectively we diminish complexities of our forms. This is why we have technologous inventions, Rearranging norms. We apply our new conventions, First to rich and then to poor, Not this our main intention, But complex enough for sure, To be the aim of this erection, Before we put it in a whore, Let's reflect on resurrection, It is you you're fighting for.
Gord
2014-08-11 12:00 am
Alas, you make like critics predicted. The marathon runner now needs no glass. Condensation enough for a victory. Shock has found equivalency, Just adopt this piece of shit dog. Type? Don't ask me. It would be a vain attempt at breed, Trivializing my identity.
The Sophist
2014-05-26 12:00 am
If you could go back and change your life, You look back on your strife? Would I go back and change mine? I look back and my life is changed daily. For the better? Questionable. I look back at my life deranged gayly. For the most part; Insatiable. Satiated in my adolescence with hot knives hot paperclips unwinded on hot tables while a hot ocean waited for hot iron; Not able. Enough quotes from a world of war to be the next supreme gentleman, I changed my life enough to know that truth is irrevocable, I'd choke a bull for a chance at life less like a festival of Bedouins negligible.
Gord
2014-03-13 12:00 am
A clasp of green. A feel alive again today. My high is here to stay, No Evergreen, Nor pine mine is. EUCALYPTUS I found the fabled forest, Large enough to raise my kin in.
Dusti Rodes
2014-03-05 12:00 am
Reflections on the demise of a Neighbour Everywhere here Is full up with junk That isn't really so. The building of a couple's lifetime. These possessions that are left Are all there is to show. The winged ducks Pots and pans Brooms and mops The crystal decanter with its glasses Projector and screen Slides taken of foreign mountain passes Planes and trains Books on stone polishing, birds, gardening and roses Videos and stills of Formula One heroes Transfixed in winning poses Sewing machine, curtains Cups and saucers Things that should have been handed on To beloved sons and daughters That never materialised. The log box, embellished in brass Figures of snails and owls Made in Caithness Glass Squirrels, dogs and hedgehogs Porcelain men and women Music boxes that play tunes While in the cutlery drawers Fish knives, glass rolling pin Even silver apostle spoons The collection of records, cd's and tapes Recorded by artistes, many long gone A multitude of stereos and tape decks To choose to play them on. Clocks and timers Wallets and watches TV and twin tub Clothes airer and spin dryer Pencils, pens and paper (by the ream) Plastic bags in all sizes Enough for several lifetimes Drills and saws Fishing tackle Fly, sea and coarse Full blown sou'wester sailing suit And around in the garage Long wader boots An iron gate Wrought with his own hand All serve to measure The mark of the man. Dusti Rodes (2004)
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