Heavy Beast O' Burden

Through these two threadbare, knuckle-beaten gaps,

blood is called for and received by the hide

of a quadriplegic beast I have trapped

and strung up firm at about shoulder's height.

Its sway, attuned to leisure and to force,

is rhythmically accompanied by

a rattle - like the chewing of a horse;

one with metal teeth and black, vacant eyes.

Its purpose is assured with each thrown fist.


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I'm like an eagle in the sky
So free to breathe and very wild
With my strong wings I'm free to fly
I live without the fear to die

I will fly low when I am tired
But I will never touch the ground
My heart is burning like a fire
I'm wide awake when all are sound

I only prey on rogue monkeys
To make them pay for their mischiefs
Snatch them right from their trees
Scratch their throat and their cheeks

I am an eagle in the sky
No one commands me but I
Threaten me and I will fight
Grasp the message that I imply

Author's Notes/Comments: 

"EAGLE" is all about living free --without chains and boundaries.

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(Stunted) Countdown

When stirred by the alarm:
a cryptic warning of the
pathological stowaway,
the single denizen rose in fright
and broke the orbit of his satellite.

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Dead Ship On Live Water

Rounding one corner of this century:
ship's been good about plodding on in spite
of mutiny's whip. Doubts I've been having
are nesting deep in pocket, but that's fine;
an optimist is less prepared for woe.

From rope slung by an unforeseen vessel,
men crash like waves on deck and steal away
with goods carried short, or furthest to date -
robbed from the belly of the cargo hold.
All attempts to anticipate have failed.

Twice my wits have failed me; twice I've driven
this beaten pile into treachery,
only to be shown that life favors none.
Shot full of gulping wounds and with the mast
aflame; the day's lessons were lost on me.

Still I have the cobwebs for company.
Drunk on thick dust that's gathered at the base
of the bottle and the salt that's soaking
into my skin like embalming fluid.
There never was a better way to drift.

What crew I'd had are long dead; abandoned
by hope and the desire to see home.
And now that hope leaves me, as well at sea,
absent of the needle pointing towards
north. I'll take my peace with a powder slug.

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My Seedling


I have a seedling.
Almost more than a year ago,
I planted it on soil.
It gets sunshine
And lots of rain.
But it gets nourished more and more each day.
Leaves grow brighter and greener.
Stems are taller and longer.
I know it would be so big sooner or later
So healthy and strong against any wind
As it is now albeit young.
Ohhh this seedling is my love
And now it continuous to grow
As I planted it to you,
For almost more than a year ago.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A random poem for a partner.

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Squares Like Smallish Casinos

I'm in love with this square.
She's flat on four edges,
like most of these cubic,
centrist collectors of
tears and well-wishes.
She likes to stay dressed in
sheets made of linen, and
nobody's swept her in months.
But she's speckled and smokey,
like a smallish casino, where
dreams can come true, but only
while sleeping, or nodding off gin.

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Ignorance in the Sky

Oh, dear,

Firefly, firefly,

Against the midnight sky

Please tell me how, and tell me why

Does the sweet, sad wind so mournfully sigh?

Please tell me how, and tell me why

The clouds just hang and cry?

Quick, firefly fly...


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Your Shelter As Mine

I'd rent the space above your collarbone;
an affordable rate, a deposit of sorts:
in saying that I love you, dearest,
and that I intend to stay a while yet.
I hope you'd accept me as tenant --
ply me well, let me lay against you,
and force me to prove my good will,
my good grief, my well-wishing;
I will not fail with your shelter as mine.

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Beach me with the monster whales,
their chassis born through globular entrails
and digested by the sand beneath
with crabs a-scurry on sidewinder feet.
The sun a beacon of peeling skin,
with wretched mention of cancers within,
and a fevered shake, blistered too
with bubbles that burst by light of full moon.
Hermits grow in shade of shells,
content and confined until next they may dwell.
Seagulls bend and fall from the blue
with talons outstretched with beads on sinew.
The caws and the clacks surround, abound
and leave me entrenched by sounds of wet ground.
So happy, rotting; stenches be damned ---
I'll burrow like urchin to be away from the land.

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