claudia523

.

He sends delicate messages
He hangs on the return of tomorrow's
Search. he sees chains on her breasts
Her lip moist as a fruit
He is buoyed by his confidence
Induced to watch his curious clock
As she confounds the clouds
With one blinding smile.






.

`



I should have left him
Lying in that ditch
But no- and he rose all phoenix-like
To break my spell.
But there's power in pressing
Buttons....One stroke of an iron
Hand can hustle those wrinkles
Wrinkle those hustlers...
But finally there's that moment
Where the words stand alone
The Sword cuts or slices
Or rescues whores, lavatory cleaners,
Donkey attendants,to say nothing
Of the Princes of this world.
Lancing wounds left covered and boiling
Breeching the dams of mindfollies.
Unseen but heartfelt they romance
The parched and peurile
They overpin the ovaries of desire
Beguiling the beleaguered they
Burnish the breasts of noble songbirds
All crystal facets of their zircon light.


.

Her Afghan Mountains


....





Stretching Bleak her Afghan mountains

Deep between her wells, her differing waters

Lost across those deserts of her heart.

She's standing in lines unclickt and unclipt

Her mailbox flowing with mothballs.

She , who picks grapes; catches

Feathers, those golden quills

Foxing in legions beyond her rainbows.

She was there

When the donkey rode in

(who wasn't) and who in

Their right mind remembered?

So, here is your love letter village jim

Divided by glebe forgetfulness

This Rondalay; in some dark plan

That bombs my landscape

That circles my curious eyrie

That longs to cry with me.



There goes my sister- singing again

While under that pile of mouldy towels

Lies a heap of paralysed words







.

If after all I were to grab you

Tie you, withered leg and all

to my typewriter

If I told you to stand closer

To be man right now!

Then what? Would it be inevitable

Would it be clear to the whole world

That you are the One

Dancing round poetry

Loving a sound of a word

Sucking the paps of imagination?

But not really....

I wouldnt disturb that man

He looks best when Im not here

He's beautiful enough in the absence of style

That pale charlatan

To stand on his head

While those of us in unspoken humour

Wonder why.



c

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE GREEN




god, please grant me the patience
to lay my body numb upon
this bed of black soil,
to lay patient with the years
thru wars and presidents
comets and clocks...
as the pine tree grows thru my ribs.
and when my task is done
complete...
as I lay lonesome in this valley
with birds perched on my peak
may all my friends arrive
one by one...
surrounding me with love and accolade
and may they call me troy
the first boy with a tree in his heart







Written by Slorpe Lethargene....myspace

.

THEREFORE I WAS

i am not nose splint
taco hair
the man with too many lobster hats
i man ear wax crunch
dandelion mozart
string cheese wonder whim
i am not bookmark
leaf lips
tall man in the bushes
i am clean teeth
doorbell
ring the money and run
i am energy
tuba too
man without eels in pocket
i am pinball fruit punch
mosquito
too many napkins
not enough salt
i am thin lasagna
i am turbo-nut spider coupe
i am the youth of burden
the locket of tea
i am all the bananas in peru
in timbuktu i am carl
in spain i'm snow
in the moist forest i am clean
i bare fruit in the puddles
in the pudding
i'm the baby gene simmons
licking whipped beans
i'm geroges bataille eating your eyes
i'm cheesecake in your pantyhose
i'm no more tissues
i'm dom delouise's nephew
or paul simon's toothpick
i am not whiffle ball bobby
or apricot arthur
i am rinse once and repeat
i'm rinse twice and die
i'm the rabbi of justice
a gigantic knish
a piece of licorice in nobody's tooth
i'm seldom
i'm rare
im the nihilist solution to air hockey and book
i'm nagasaki without bomb
iraq without oil
i'm the gift you can't open
i'm aluminum foil
I'm not the dutch surprise
the american luncheon
i'm too much to do
i'm nothing to see
i am not nose splint
taco hair
the man with too many lobster hats
i am monopoly earthquake
i am parchesi linguine
when i'm here you're there
when I'm there you're eating birthday cakes
and please please please
don't get me started on celebrating birthdays






Slorpe Lethargene Myspace.

Ka pai Mr. Brown
You're American now
Yet still you hanker
for the Old Lands
Remembering
untarnished locks
and how swallows
nested in your hat.
Well, .. look in the mirror-
They're still there
homing in on your crazy schemes
They know
In your bid to fashion Oscars
You are the star
the moon up your nostril
the sun shining
in your heart


Of course you have seen me
write from the start










c

Voiced thought

originating behind veiled feeling

I wonder if Ms Basho

considered herself an island

enigmatically washing his

shirts in soft .,sudsy waters



His bed was cold this moring

again his tea was littered

with autumn leaves.










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