Monthly Archives: May 2013

marrow of morrow

will i love tomorrow
when it comes
like a cinnamon girl
give in to what it
takes
will it lap dance
on guitar
sun sliding into
moon
and burn forgiveness
in both our
souls

will

tomorrow bring your eyes
breasts on bed
stomach on sheets
my cinnamon girl
a song i sing
cup of tea
and
lay where the hills
lead spine to
morning
sun
and snow so warm

‘i love tomorrow’, you say
but
‘i need right now’

o cinnamon girl

song of today
and…..

Advertisements

where is the equator then……

she sat in front of the mindless
mannequin
and called it a t.v
she
stood before the
mirror
and believed she was a
statue
now she smokes a cigarette
and wonders
what she accomplished today
besides
her own little
world


begin the old testament

eve
collapses among the fruit
after
leading in the
cattle
having them
stop behind her
before
the gate
she has sat under
the
tree with
a picnic basket
-maple still
green-
and in protest
eaten a bushel of
apples

God finds a word for redemption
and thinks next time
there will be
fire
and
floods


It is a dead and stagnate town

the great nostalgic past
wearing t-shirts
of logos we were
too young to associate
with
flower power youth of
colour in a time even
if a child,
we would not
know the
political or world
struggles of business
or drug-gged-behind-the-scenes
stand-off

local radio hits the
online and dies
playing great oldies
and terrible 80’s in this
town where competitors
must know your name
be your daddy’s son
and never leave to come back

there was a time when
great stories had to be written
the competition was there to
hold the quality and
the evidence, to quote
Babylon and relegate Caesar.
its a soap opera trash minute
– now –
choosing to work for the best
black and white printed line
is for the weak –
uploaded headlines every 30 seconds
with
uneducated trash to turn the
tides of the working man’s mind
(who now becomes)
unaware of the real details.
it multiplies down to the uneducated school chums
hooked on reality know it all celebrities
and cartoon-sitcoms showing
a non-existent tween how to bypass
living their childhood
and become a market place drone

ahhh saturday morning cartoons
my cereal and slippers
and quiet tip toes
-to-
not wake dad,
are still happening as i pass
by sleeping dog and
move past wife
a VHS collection
kept well oiled and preserved
for the weekly homage
and i sit and ignore
all regulated
chosen
cell phone
updates


In it and on it

should
i
say
in a canvas
or
on a canvas
if i’m in your canvas
i belong with the
story
on a canvas
i
belong only to your
moment
and life slips us
both
by….


In a canvas to the north east, is home……

i am taller than a stack of books
with my mind closed off to yours
i sit on a steel chair beside a large rubber duck
and dream of the seaweed you grow
i let this imagery hang out the window
its a summer dress, see thru – and you look
glorious

-in a city by the ocean, this country behind me, do i see?


plums and bath towel

eat the orange for the camera
we
can always clean up later
pull
yourself
up out of the water
the boat will wait, my
hand is out
james-double-OH
is not schedule to
leave his
trailer
for another hour
oh-so


%d bloggers like this: