(Trilogy)

I.

eyes that can hear and

hands that could see-

float you out to the

incessant sea.

shuttered windows and

hollow lies hide Holistic

within Heathen.

mis-read, mislead and

hunting the heretical hero

wishing you the best

pat you on the back and

trip you on your way

out into existence.

face falls too fast to forge forgiveness.

II.

waiting

working it out

somewhere in my sleep.

solemnly singing as the

bird caged by her own brain.

factory-made puppet purrs

in company of 8mm of

perfected

poise.

you exist

and yet--don't.

dear distractions that dance

amongst my flame-

first to the fire finds fellowship

in the wake of the early morn.

fire-escape rendezvous watching sun set behind

mechanical caterpillars.

cover the broad way with traveled miles

to see a familiar-face-not-forgotten.

shooting star surfaces to grant me

one last wish, only

I never could decide-

daren't inquire.

runaway holidays hold

hopes and hesitations...

30,000ft. is a long way to fall.

III.

silver sunburn

drink me in with thine eyes

hypnotize me in the memorization of

sleepy solace.

threads of intimate information

sent sailing along-

the sentiments speak softly and

carry big sticks.

bated banter bears down and

elicits ignition of

lost-but-not-forgotten flame that

feasts on my imbecilic imagination.

(imbecilic in its inspired improbabilities.)

You are here....

(Love to Kill)

Linked to you all by
love and light,
spread thin,
       (while most anticipate spread leg), but
MaBelle is only a voice.
Ten fingers,
(one for each ring-)
each promise to breathe and to sing,
                   to laugh and to lose,
holding out for my humble pie,
watchful eye,
        melodic muse,
           mis-interpreted mother.
(Expectant only in
eagerness to engorge the erudite apostle's
explanation of self.)
Heart song zings- strings
anchor ankle to ankle
the convert and the coveted.
Influence is enough of a (gift) for our
malevolent Moll, to
send the sands surging into the wind,
                to scatter, and
all the while
shading from the sacrificial sun.
Got love to kill.
(Thru-traffic keeps me still.)
Sing me to sleep, it's a
beautiful lie on a tragically vibrant day.
Apple slices sweeten the tongue that
whispers whistles in a dark alley.