About Love

“Falling forwards jumbled like a tossed lost salad, crisped and bathed in shadowed ice.
This breathing heaving chest sprouts leaky fingers, squeaky clean from bathing in cold war-torn concepts never nice.

How gossamer fine they sound, so fine. Pristine and thin. Carefully chosen woven from such tiny minds of silk and rice.

I listen hardly, listen softly struggling like a wrestler with a vocal semi quaver.
Oil slicked and licked before the one I really favour.

Waiting for the hair-width fissure groaning under giddy pleasures brought about by pompous sin. My lips stand guard as stern-faced soldiers falling future fast. I catch my wayward breath and plant it deeper where it’s colder. A germ, a seed that you my love can cultivate when next you plant yourself within.”

“The evening you floor floated to my side in green crushed velvet silence; Hidden angels stopped testing flesh to raise this broken soldier soul into the light.

Oh it’s safe to say that your eyes were sunlit vision open wide, welded firmly to a freckled youthful cheek. Fastened with your small-town coal-tar mascara.

Coupled-coitis tight-skin pair we could have been the two of us. Hand in hand with probing laughing blood-filled lips and tongues. Exploring new terrain. But mystic like a godly being you passed me by and settled deep within my spirit like a headstrong sperm; Predestined, mission-bound for warm and fertile ground.

Oh it’s safe to say that your eyes were wide and staring as obtuse early cells of abuse were bathed in milk-love light, clinging to each other finding strength both you and I to live again.

Now bones with weaker strength and marrow breath that stops too soon are sneering gifts the Prince of Flesh and Bone deposits daily at my feet. But nestled deep within, ‘Cocooned’ in velvet mystic silence a love child grows with healing in its wings. Feeding on the common spirit food that flows through love-locked veins.”

“A time of cocoon-warm bonding re uniting ‘close as skin’ has begun.
Eyes closed blind and trusting hearts lie warm beneath the leaking sun.

Beware the sleep! The silent ghost-white surrender-flag will rise again with spirit noise and windy sails.
Eyes wide open now with cautious steps to steal a kiss that nothing pales.

Once again with seven strides we’ll walk the water floating forwards to the light that burns in eyes now brightened by the sun. We’ll walk as one.”

“Sullen, brooding, swollen with expectation like a felt envelope; waiting for God’s finger beveled name in fire’s flame; waiting for the winged foot slave.

In minds-eye cracking like leaking treacle lava. The taste! The smell! The teasing doppelganger tissue strains my mind like linen in milk.

In time. In time. Before the Big Ben crushing shadow-bruising sway-back cry.
‘To work at nine and home at five’ forwards, forwards, ticking-tocking to the down-count genetic second hand.

The word is spoken. Spoken quietly not in silence ‘slight of closed-door hand’. But slowly; Simply. ‘Take this alter ego fragrant blood-red flower to your side’.

Silent years of seamless smiling knowing love, that vainly mimes in hopeless muted wordless love; we spirit-welded wet-chord lashed with soldiered strength walk through morphic fields that bend the universe softly under patterned feet.”

“When I think of you a well of light-felt wonder thunder-cracks beneath these opened veins; a heart gift free-fall passion, fashioned just to hold and heal your love locked pains.

When I think of demon frog-eyed milk-child bashings, gnashing from a  primal scream; drunken stupor razor deep-cut horror face. I frail-child howl and weep to seek forgiveness in this sweet re union petal soft embrace.”

“I watched you just the other day wrestle with the arm of God; the fight was long, you lost! He’s far too strong.

I watched you through the bathroom door; you heard the floorboard creak with aging wood and resin as you washed away the pain with eucalyptus oil on polished teak. You were growing weak.

I watched you, saw you tumble ‘pell mell’ through the maze of sharpened dark-force tongues; cutting like a thin edged razor, hurting you till euthanasia seemed the only noble thing to do. The angels knew what you went through.

I watched you hard with mind wide open, anguish coping seeming like a joke; full of myth and mirth a gentle breeze as God’s right arm was at his knees because you found the healing light of true self worth.”

“I looked into the midday Grecian sun one day and lingered just a little long, my retina, pupil, rod and cone were set aflame by ultra violet lightening strong.

At first I thought a passion phase of sunspot sun-shot shimmer haze; soon to pass like summer’s glass, returning bright-eyed lonely gaze.

But as the days the weeks passed black I knew the summer light would not be back; resigned to blackness deep and velvet blue I closed my eyes and thought of you.

Like open rumbling indigo skies above a vision arose wet-winged and dripping. Our first love.

The power holy white danced around me. Deep water salted tears found me as we kissed for that long-loved first time. Instantly eye scales like blackened ashes cracked into my thickened lashes; In that second sorrow fear and tearing pain, I broke free from eyes to see again.”

“ My lover stands tall giving shelter like a river willow. Hair like dazzling leaves dancing in the white sun.

Somewhere secret hidden in the caves of summer, laughter like a healing brook runs to her lips and then to mine.

Who can say where winds begin their journey? Who can tell where love springs eternal?
I can only wait for my lovers sheltering smile each morning and hope for the magic to burn with the fuel of angels.”

“Your voice came singing to me, spirited along those satellite lines and suddenly my heart swelled to twice its size in lonely passion-love.

Although you traveled light years space and time, your voice came millisecond ‘new-age dawning’ spawning seeds of romance verse and rhyme.

Seven seas and thick gray walls with gentle breeze and tasseled hair have chasm-deep severed loves strong chord. But lonely as a cloud I found a truer highway traveled freely, rarely traveled in your voice of love’s sweet chime.

So in my turning yearning sweet returning gift I bring. It has no end. I bring to you the freedom pleasure treasured way when first I heard your voice.”

“Blue breath death star, tearing sharing secrets no one hears. No one cares as lemon yellows ‘strangle-hold release’ a vice like grip to fall to fall and then to peace.

Old men ‘feathers ruffled’ shuffle single aisle in bleak submission, wading through the ochre graves of silent slaves that cushion tired feet; a step a step and then to sleep.

Swifter than a weavers shuttle feathers plume. Yellow subtle nectar seekers probe weak flowers, endless hours; too long, too long sweet juice is gone.

Thinner than a sinners lip the cold, the pain, the lashing rain thrown from winters icy hand descends once more across this heaving land of dinosaurs and tar black coal; too soon too soon the warmth has gone.

There! A fond sound in the morning pallor. Roses dead from pain and ill-wind strain in phantom colour as softly sweet my lovers feet tread the frozen green moss grass; at last at last they gently laugh in unison with ‘undead’ leaves that slowly, ghostly spirit-carry my dear love to me.”

“Autumn ochres rich in mumbled soft-fall locks of Nile-red smells kindly ‘kiss and tell’ the long-love living line of alter-ego softened image; smiling just outside my vision field.

Looking in from my extended light perspective; rounded in an ‘other-worldly’ point of view. I wonder, sometimes ponder how it is that seasons gone from neuron’s, reasons past forgotten (not forsaken) flee from such a warm rich pallet made from me and you.

Then hand in small hand heart still leaping, eyes still squeaking you laugh in water-falling sheets and down-soft fashion; raising spirit sleep with old flesh slumber. Fleeing like some frightened rabbit white-tail nodding to the only tune he knows.

Behind is peace and quiet rich. Red love that statue stands alone and proud, a century old and yet not beaten by the harsh sadistic seasons.

So autumn ochres show your colours for the others. Drop your leaves for all to see.
One by one in yellow gold and crimson kingly flaming colours I’ll take them all (there’s no exception) no rejection. Weave a cloak of multi-hues and burning spirit passion. Warm old souls to cling like plastic (quite fantastic!) to our hearts that beat in perfect unison.”

“Just one step ‘R.M.Williams’ brown. A little torn but well within the ‘use by date’ and gossamer bones crack and puff like soda fizz across the timeless sands without a sound.

Still, my short years have come and gone, yet twilight thin they cast a broad-beam shadow wider than perception’s doors; so forty thousand years is not so long.

Searching, struggling, demon-hold like Jacob’s dream I wrestled with God’s arm with every powder step, across the dunes of timeless fears and carbon-dated metacarpals. Stopping only by a friendly tree.

The search, the search. I see the search has blinded me with truths, yes truth! Leading to another sign that marks the way ahead. Clear light that brighter grows to light the way around again.

And in that lonely shadow (thank you tree!), I stood and wept. Too weak to thresh the air with hollow chaff. And there, gentle dove you came in sweet submission. Grounded by the blinding simple single bliss of being, never seeing.

In searching, eyes are turned to wood. In reaching for the truth light darkens. Struggle is the Devil’s  cup that never fills. Shut tight the door to Angel’s food.

I do not see, my tongue is numb. In movement to the left or right the spell God’s own image breaks apart reflecting signposts. Truth! They say and light the way to others, clearer, larger still. Truth they say, lying through their clean white teeth.

So just one step of powder-years, or maybe many? Some may know.
I’ll walk the narrow line of never knowing.

“Quicker than a pregnant pause, a brooding cloud-shadow passes on a chooks wing.
Launched with liquid nitrogen in its tail and a damn good reason for being.

Softer than a blackbird’s sigh, a poly-vinyl acetate splash of blossom blood and white; falls on sweaty humus.
Punched into the waiting winds by impatient hungry veins that split then suck and growl with younger pains.

Stronger than a Russian drink, an emerald cocooned fist is shaken by the sudden silence; forced open to a concept lost on those who cannot see.
Clinging dearly to the solid ground, with blue cold resentment that always looks the other way.

Warmer than my mother’s milk, a sunlight bar laser-cool and on the spot, burns away my faithless fearful epidermis.
Releasing aqua crystal pure, running through my newly molded spirit veins; daily poured
and string-free, playing humble honey tunes that drip with healing from my lover’s lips.”


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