03-05-2015, 01:39 AM
There are two kinds of obscurity....
Divorce in Obscurityville.
Strange affiance, two for ever, broken by amaurosis;
one can see, the other write. Aspectual neurosis
put her in the barracoon of thought…held behind aeneous bars.
Alone she dances, arabesque, content beneath Eleatic stars;
sensory illusions, maybe, she splits in to disepalous flowers.
Free to loose coarctate bonds, yet weak with leptosomic powers,
what chance to beat timocracy, with nothing but slumgullion
……………………………in urceolate jugs.
Camera Obscura
Cold winds spin salt like candy-floss, sweet as a currant bun
but by the kettle on the fence, there pines a lonely one.
Port and whisky, beer and brine, bile because she’s starving;
yet will not take and must not eat the eagle she’s been carving.
Bald and wrinkled like the moon, left to circle blindly,
picking up the poisoned pen, she starts to write unkindly.
She slashes with the beaks of gulls, stabbing at the sky.
But no one looks, and no one cares, and no one hears her cry.
Passing close, lens cap in hand, his shutter button presses…
he takes her image home with him whilst slowly she undresses.
tectak
2015
(another for dale. God I love that guy!)
Divorce in Obscurityville.
Strange affiance, two for ever, broken by amaurosis;
one can see, the other write. Aspectual neurosis
put her in the barracoon of thought…held behind aeneous bars.
Alone she dances, arabesque, content beneath Eleatic stars;
sensory illusions, maybe, she splits in to disepalous flowers.
Free to loose coarctate bonds, yet weak with leptosomic powers,
what chance to beat timocracy, with nothing but slumgullion
……………………………in urceolate jugs.
Camera Obscura
Cold winds spin salt like candy-floss, sweet as a currant bun
but by the kettle on the fence, there pines a lonely one.
Port and whisky, beer and brine, bile because she’s starving;
yet will not take and must not eat the eagle she’s been carving.
Bald and wrinkled like the moon, left to circle blindly,
picking up the poisoned pen, she starts to write unkindly.
She slashes with the beaks of gulls, stabbing at the sky.
But no one looks, and no one cares, and no one hears her cry.
Passing close, lens cap in hand, his shutter button presses…
he takes her image home with him whilst slowly she undresses.
tectak
2015
(another for dale. God I love that guy!)