Wednesday, April 06, 2011

petals underfoot

My brothers' dreams flow swiftly:
sugaring swiftly through and past
drowning ankles: chattering amongst
themselves, shconspiring, whispering,
whipping into twelve-barred conversations
little parsts of us should never
hear. Lovers and conspirators, the keepers
of secrets buried long within a few centimetres
of crackling paper towers held
gently, gentler than lives ever will.
Racing dogs racing past slumbering minds,
racing to sit still on silvered slivers of alliterations.
The krschickoush of lent-out dreams
waddle past us and we pick on the dreams of our brothers,
togetherly grate upon the iron-schqueek gates
of togetherness and together walk
perfectly paved pavements of petulant petals and cliches.

Sunday, April 03, 2011

signs of humanity

By the by-lanes whipping through
the city the walkers saunter and stroll,
parading past vacant eyes
looking upon families of fours. The plumage
of such exotic birds bears no electric colours
or blooming feathers, just little sandaled-feet
and slight touches of fingertips.

By the pebbles and stone-fragments
lie white dogs and a black wolf
amidst scampering rodents who dare
scuttle by the fingertips of pensive men
with vacant eyes. A misheard siren
in the distance forces the baying
of wolves and a sudden silence imposed by the quiet of the other few.

The signs of humanity stretch
past the cobbled side-walk: the buttends of days
and nights waiting for a fresh breath
within the bags that contain our separate lives.
The churning of wheels loses itself by the seaside,
the breakers stumbling towards the insurmountable
walls of our walking feet.