scarecrow poetics/essays

ONLY A WHILE TO PLAY

I sit, I feel
souls brush by not sensing
just rushing on a bent track
I wait, I look,
breathe between the cracks
ghost within their flow,
their rhythm
it's their game,
rules one sided
mocking in a language of ice
a door locked with spit and bile
stark contrast to my own
egotist tragedy
all precision in applause
palms beating - mocking
I am laughing here,
but I want to be there
at a point ever receding
a horizon of flames
where no roots take hold
and words rise on,
and on,
and onto nothing.



ON GROWING

(the skin gets itchy)

Heat,
breath dead beat
down to a whisper
a muffled spasm
amongst a corduroy crowd.

(keep faking)

Slip,
glide along
spit shine cement
looking for a crack
hell's where it's at.

(let go)

Fall,
sweet death
of an expired I
a rented tux
trade in with infinity.

(in the now of now)

Blank,
virgin wall
virgin child
with wild eyes
and new colours
where to start?

UNDERGROUND

We were gods once,
our kingdom a highway
of white lines
buried deep
beneath a creaking
grey city
a city which lay heavy
like a blanket
gold feathered
hiding us within its folds

We ruled with mercy
laws of spirit,
instinct,
the teeth of our hearts
bared to the rain
which washed away
sodden fears
packed mud about
our naked egos
set free to dance
in guiltless wonderment

Straddling street corners
we screamed voiceless
at the cutting wind
watched the brave
brave the real world
the fools
they never knew
such fantasy lurked
leeched from the gutters
merging as the uroboris
mouth to tail,
tail to mouth

they never knew
just beneath the
maternal children
had found the path
to the pool of birth
where fears danced
before exploded eyes
bait for the imagination,
unfettered
in moments of bliss
when we were gods.

Bradley King 2005.

posted by scarecrow  # 9:37 AM