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somewhere
along the universal path
a twilight hut

stands alone

where cosmic palms are read
and untimely fortunes are told
by abyssal blackness
in the guise of twinkling
clairvoyants

planets reach out
to touch lost faith
yearning for a claim
to stardom
but the uncelestial zone
yields only
dead broke dreams
that have been missold

inside
the sensei shadows
of physics
whisper
contemptuously
of blaggards that
“couldn’t even imagine
how to float
never mind actually
be buoyant”

outside
sub-zero temperatures
make sure their teeth
are heard chattering
as their lips
splutter kisses
upon every
last inch of spacial decay
comets are the remnants
of their spit splattering

© poormansdreams

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As,
the, curious,
beak, cracks, through,
the shell.
The curvature, splits. Like, a
crooked spine, in, Corruption’s; hu
-nched, charlatanic, back. Memor
-ies; scramble. As, yokes, are, unhitch
-ed, from; cheats of burden. They walk,
with, precise, apexed, chins. Held high.
Elevating, to; poached, classy, cultured, chambrés. From, collapsing shacks. I
-ronically, the highbrows, never sense,
the cliffs, as they, edge, ever-closer, to,
their; flipped, scripted, skyscraping,
demise. Now, ovalled. Over. Easy;
is the fall. The, unlucky, Moon,
stays, risen. For, a baker’s,
dozened, months. Rot
-ten. Unable to;
evac.

© poormansdreams

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Taken…

…is, but,
a quivering,
moment.

To fade,
into, sign
-ificance’s, aching,
thrumming, mists…

…with, those,
unforsaken.

Yet, desolated,
is, the sequence,
of yesterdays,
leading, upto…

…that, final,
shaking…

…moment. This…

…is, when you become…

…trembling millenia…

…in the making.

Time’s
–ed by…

…tremored rememberance,
in perpetuum…

…a, for ever
-more, breathtaking,
premise.

© poormansdreams

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Unlucky horseshoes,
strewn around the fields,
where I used to play.
Captured ankles after curfews,
absconded sword and shield,
laugh at me from yesterday.
I used to cry with curlews,
now my mouth is sealed,
like the word unsay.
Broad and mighty purviews,
are now wisps that yield,
to ground on which they lay.

You’ll never understand,
the pain with which you struck me.
The young outstretching hand,
has wizened into an old and grizzled duppy.
The noose I wear by your demand,
has the same shape and plans,
as those; hateful, possessive, and, damned;
horseshoes unlucky.

@poormansdreams

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You were Sacrificed on the Altar of Innocence.

Does the inkling stain
of an untattooed hole
and another teethless grin
explain the sinking shame
of a sunken soul?
Needled punctured spirit
of unholy porous stories
get underneath the skin
creepy crawling minutes
a minor’s corpus quarried.
Evanesced trauma and potential
left odd outlined fingerprints
like belief absolving sin
by the purported reverential
Godly eyed/bedeviled glints.

I was Sacrificed on the Altar of Innocence.

Still misshapen flat screeching; grief.
Childer’s; forsaken crescendoed deliverance.
Open-mouthed caves; youth’s open graves.
Yearn to be filled; in muddy melodied relief.
The undertaker only bends; to dissonance.

We are all Sacrificed on the Altar of Innocence.

© poormansdreams

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Pray tell, Janus,
how, does, it, feel?
Does, your steel’s,
duplicitous, reflection, reappear?
When, the, officed, place,
your, only-thought, used to, lay,
it’s, bulbous head,
blossoms, into,
a, tangible idea?
Does, the bedrock’s, stele,
make, flowering mettle,
of, the insecure hay?
And, from, the ore,
did, a, garden-variety,
blacksmith, bow, kneel, and, forge,
a sword, for, you, to, falsely, slay,
the poltergeist’s, of, those, evil,
sons, and, daughters, seeded by,
that, shiny, yet, mistrusted,
Monarchy of Fear?

So, pray tell, Janus,
how, does, it, feel?
Does, your steel’s,
duplicitous, reflection, disappear?
When, your mettle, is, made molten?
Does, it, maim, to see,
your, valued core, first, loosen,
then, wobble, as, you, backtrack, sore,
and, falter, on hearing, the, magma mists,
of, you, hiss, and, squeal?
Is, cerulean, gold, scarlet, and, purple,
all, that, you, listen to, here?
Does, the, imperious, court,
within, your mind, reveal, only,
Knaves-Jesters-Jacks-and-Jokers?
And, does, the, gilded line,
(you speak of naught),
that, you, and, your; Kings, and, Queens, crossed, of yester,
split; all, of, your faces, in, two,
with; royal-blue, hot, i-ron, pokers?

The answers, as always, were; curved, and,
swerved. In, a, spineless, motion, with, gall, but, without, feeling, or, nerve. Pride,
watched on, unaware, of, the fall, that, lay, beyond, the cliff, where, evil, is, served.

© poormansdreams

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What-if-that-dream-we-
had-where-we-are-all-
fall-
ing-
is-
sim-
ply-
the-
coll-
ect-
ive-
sub-
con-
sci-
ous-
of-
our-
ho-
me-
pla-
net-
call-
ing?
The
lad-
der-
to-
cli-
mb-
bac-
k-up-
see-
ms-
to-
go-
on-
for-
ever-
and-
the-
clo-
ck-
at-
the-top-keeps-on-
striking-ten-past-never.

© poormansdreams

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The
evil, vi-
triolic, m-
arrowed, m-
emories, that,
travel, through,
hollow-boned, w-
ords, come-forth;
a, cerulean, reverie,
from, the, decaying,
skeleton, of, a, whale’s,
mouth, and, sweep, the,
landscape, like, a, desola-
ting, tsunami-wave, of, cada-
verous, cartilaged, evocations,
destroying; lives, loves, relation-
ships, and, long, lost, treasuries.
                                 Drowned.
                     Never,
                to,
           be,
found.

© poormansdreams

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I, reluctanly, recall…
Walking,
without, a purpose. To,
a, sacked, disowned, &,
treeless, destination.
Without, labour, a name,
or, spread, tangible
roots.
Balking,
at, the, persistent, promenade,
of, time. In, all, it’s; direct-
ions. It’s; eons, &, the, resistant,
nature, of, my; permanently,
belligerent,
boots.
Constant. Hair, stood, shakily,
talking,
incoherently. Finely, dressed,
yet, unemployable, and, meandering,
while, wearily, wearing, it’s;
hirsute.

© poormansdreams

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A, Norwe-
         gian, fjord,
             overlooking, loftily.
                        Like, sixteen-
                        aged, potential,
                   love. Like, several,
                         protege’s; full,
                           and, predicted,
                                            futures.
                           The, raven’s, eye,
                   intersects, the snow,
                       as, though, a, beauty-
spot, on, translucent, skins; a-black
-serpentine-rock-set-in-silver-sutures.
           I, counted, to, nine, as, the
magic, faded……… Mountainous,
                    terrain, murmured, with,
                           feathered, subtlety.
“To be, a fjord, is, to, truly, view,
   the world, &, know, cascading, change,
                      over, those, that, are, newer.”

© poormansdreams
                     

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