January 21, 2014
on the farm

on the farm, I love the cows bell
a monumental sway
keeping time in grain
a cloister of corn
silenced by silos
nuclear families became war
housed in spark plugs
incinerating shins to souls
an amputated rhythm
an absence of rhyme

a slow cooker in the prairie sun
rocking chairs sweat maple syrup
in blistering retreat
a sweet tea
and dreams of foreign sea

jesus, the key note speaker
a phonograph trumpet
spouting dry heaving lies
if drought were not enough
try the draught
instilled rungs of pestilence
across bolted boards
we are your burden to bear

parted are we
in notions of nations
a sleeping tyrants vacation
a plastered plague of useless vocation
buried beneath blast doors
dear god the choice is yours

January 14, 2014
ice, ice

as time finds crutches brandished in hearts of oak
breathing new lungs betwixt man’s best friend
the mighty high mountains of sylvan beauty
supply supple seniors with sanguine safety
bleeding hiccups in hypnosis induced stasis
the river bed arrests fanciful fairies and fresh water felines
as their tongues succumb to the frozen Charles river
Boston begs undertow while overflow dusts ivy
leagues under the frigid tundra a heart breaks
for Faulkners weaker traits
spread eagle in monstrous gaits
a city shallower than Atlantis
tethered to our fair praying mantis
we welcome you
through dull commencement gates

January 6, 2014
"

…not easy to be part of Ellen without knowing or wanting to know the web our kisses make.

"

Breece D’J Pancake The Honored Dead

January 3, 2014
A hill

An obelisk through the suffering
A tall concrete shiv piercing the pale grey skies
A monument for the wicked
The sharpened arrow of masacres

We rejoice in days of old
A battle cry thats been sold
To peddling thieves
Yet worst amongst these
A flippant farce
As a globe is sheltered
Under winters wrap

January 2, 2014
Snare snaps

For some reason flurries make me ill
Whether the fluffy coat of white
Means Tomorrow will be sludge and slime
Or I am reminded of softer hands
Storms act as motherly games
Lifting covers to let them sink
Sadly, mother nature doesnt return a gaze
We look to her for approval
Through several months of trouble
A weaker sense of self
When security under scrutiny
Welcomes colder shoulders
A devilish glare
Wrought with novembers cold stare

December 31, 2013
We buckle…

I remember time being on my side
A cold stasis delaying progress
Moments were years in a treaty
Between younger self and older being
Whom welcomed shattered shades
In Victorian fashion heaving hills
Full of promise
Yet a Shakesperean primrose
Pricks lifelines greened thumbs
Under star struck plausible peasants
Amazed at change
Under gods range
We buckle
Ourselves
We buckle
Our lungs
We buckle
Memories into dreams
A world of welcoming
We gamble for charms
Flaunting old folks
For dimebags of harm

December 30, 2013
"The darkness is the best thing. There is no face, no talk, just warm skin, something close and kind, something to be lost in."

— Breece D’J Pancake A Room Forever

December 30, 2013
in the hunt

It was lost somewhere.  Between summer’s guts and autumn’s snare.
A little deathly bond born of ashes
snapped as puritan shackles do
the pieces were indeed lost
not ever to be found again
among winter’s arresting clasp
the same latch used to fasten trash cans
locked the bond away far from rodentia
for the Rat King weasels his way through homes
splitting romance with ease
he is the mat hiding the keys
in numbered streets the meek will eat
from troughs brimming with sweets
in absence of recounted love
a cauldron boils of your fine spoils

December 27, 2013
Worship with caution

I love every flower that blooms
And hate every sad unsung tune
A tribute to forgetting my person
Lost within hearty helpings of self
Youd think all these times id learn somethin’

December 25, 2013
chillier than thou

If your winter could find its way to my window
the chill come a rapping, freezing panes
through storm protection to the heart of summer
autumnal graces freeze pipes before hell strikes
in cuffed sleeves beneath grime
a tailored mental blockade
keeps times in stasis
from cauldrons which freeze
in the dead of the night
while the moon conducts cacophonies
a mortals wisp extinguished in symphony

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