Monday, March 08, 2010

Non Sequiturs for Un-pruned Roses

Loving the Alien

This groove and tongue tirade
Channelling some chic samurai
In pitched battle teevee dreams
At the edge of a fashioned world

Runs with the blood
Of a thousand slain poppies
In the veins of some velvet morning
And the children of an arcane moon

Ultraviolet waves once crashed
Upon the keys of your skeletal coast
Derailing trains of Cartesian thought
Leaving poison pens impatiently poised

Now this machine with morose-ghost standards
Tastes your tender edge, your acid etch
And whispers a secret two-step
Into the dancehalls of your inner ear

And the stones once placed upon your eyes
Make holes in a papier-mâché mask
Send ripples through the mind’s catacomb
And echo in the face of an alien son

7 comments:

Jenny Enochsson said...

Hi there,

Just dropping by here to mention that you are this week's featured FoS poet. It is a real delight rereading your poems. Thanks for all great posts!

subby said...

Heh...I closed the dance hall years ago...

The Scrybe said...

Oh wow, I like this. Thank you for helping me discover Cartesian anxiety; I'd not come across it before. And I love the peppery alliteration in this line: "Leaving poison pens impatiently poised".

Yodood said...

I got a vision of you with your poison pen patiently poised to limn those morose ghosts' acid ethchings00 yet another delight to read alound.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Jenny: Weyhay! you've made my day :D

Subby: As long as you didn't close your ears at the same time ;]

The Scrybe: Cartesian anxiety: I think, therefore I worry.

Yodood: Poison pen? moi? :)

Moineau En France said...

upon the key of your skeletal coast | derailing trains of cartesian thought | this machine with morose-ghost standards ... so much talent and originality here, how with love your poison pen.

verification word "fidishe":
a perverted love of money which leads to orgasm

Pisces Iscariot said...

Laura: I gotta get me one of those dictionaries :D