Poem - An Old Bottle Of Imagination

I found an old bottle of imagination under the sink

even the date was out of date

I thought the hell with it

lets risk it

like a vintage poison

it brought death to old thoughts

I convulsed a little

fairly normal with this shade of green

I was away then in a cow filled sky

cobweb trees fluttering in the wind

bird spiders monkey jumping in delight

an orange grass corn field caressing me surrounding me

a long line of voluptuous body posts

decadent immoral dirty in the swell of the field

I rested in their shade of black

licking at the sounds of six legged horses

I was in a painting, panting

from the heat of busy brushes

drawing a bizarre future in miniature

a corner of my eye oblongated

I stepped carefully among the shit pyramids

wondering of the animal’s anus, Darwinasstic J

the fish duck plopping pedantically on my path

stepping aside to avoid the tickle of scaly feathers

then the sharp mountains crept up on me

I fell through their zigzags

my grip on reality slipping..

away

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• this.
• Victoria Higgs "...like a vintage poison
  it brought death to old thoughts" I love this Drax! Thank you!

  February 13, 2011 at 10:29am · Unlike · 2
• El-Jay Hrairoo Inlé B-Minor Damn...I wish I had something that would bring death to old thoughts. Fuckers haunt me worse than the ghosts.

  February 13, 2011 at 10:38am · Unlike · 1
• Drax Ireland @Victoria... thanks very much :-)

  February 13, 2011 at 10:43am · Like · 1
• Drax Ireland @Hra.. turn those thoughts into buffalo, point them towards the cliff... !!

  February 13, 2011 at 10:44am · Like
• Katerina Velaora Wonderful DLL. <3 span="span">

  February 13, 2011 at 10:44am · Unlike · 1
• Drax Ireland thank you MSC... ♥

  February 13, 2011 at 10:45am · Like · 1
• Wanda Gavi-Obertenghi · 3 mutual friends
  

  ... and what emerged was quite nice... I like this poem Drax...Thanks for it :)

  February 13, 2011 at 12:04pm · Unlike · 1
• Lily Briscoe Lighthouse nicely gothic!

  February 13, 2011 at 12:05pm · Unlike · 1
• Marisa Baldino · 2 mutual friends
  

  ciao wanda.....non ti vedevo da 2 giorni .....<3 span="span"> <3 span="span"> <3 span="span">,,,*_*

  February 13, 2011 at 12:44pm · Like · 1
• Marisa Baldino · 2 mutual friends
  

  mi piace si si mi piace........*_*

  February 13, 2011 at 1:02pm · Like
• Tomas Rothfuss ...drax, thank you so much!!!

  February 13, 2011 at 4:11pm · Unlike · 1
• Liz Jackie Price Intense and thoughtful Drax...

  February 13, 2011 at 6:22pm · Unlike · 1
• JO Auteure L'intemporelle •●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒჱܓჱܓ
  ((¯`•♥•´¯)Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒჱܓ♥ HEUREUSEჱܓ
  __`•.¸.•ST VALENTIN
  ´_*●♥ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒჱܓ♥ )))..Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒჱܓ♥2011

  February 14, 2011 at 7:36am · Unlike · 1
• Marysia Wojtaszek Nice poetic trip through your fervoured imagination dear Drax ... (I think I've drank from that bottle too once or twice ;-)) xx

  February 14, 2011 at 3:43pm · Unlike · 2
• Angela Myers · Friends with Diane Dehler
  

  <3 span="span">
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  ░░▄█───▀▄░█░▄▀───█▄░░░
  ░▄▀──O──▄███▄──O──▀▄░░
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  February 19, 2011 at 1:02pm · Unlike · 1
• Branka Cubrilo "drawing a bizarre future in miniature"...every day and every moment we are drawing a bizarre future in minitures...cheers Draxxxo

  February 22, 2011 at 10:47am · Unlike · 1
• Drax Ireland ..missed this comment so belated thank you Branka :-)

  April 17, 2011 at 4:12pm · Like · 1
• Ks Turner strong, extreme, eyes are pulled from line to line, a great read :)

  May 31, 2011 at 7:53am · Unlike · 1
• Drax Ireland thanks very much Ks... it is great to get feedback since the writing and thinking of it is so much a solitary practice..

  May 31, 2011 at 7:59am · Like · 1
• Allyson Wonderland Lincoln Sounds like a bottle of absinthe to me, but it twas' mushrooms that caused MY experience to "be"~ :^) great stuff..

  October 15, 2011 at 8:44pm · Unlike · 1
• Drax Ireland one of these days I must get myself a bottle of absinthe... thanks Allyson ... :-)

  October 21, 2011 at 1:56am · Like
• Anne Barnhill Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder...

  October 21, 2011 at 2:06am · Like
• Eileen Wharton-Writer Love this:)

  July 27 at 12:34am · Like

By Drax Ireland

Poem - Cobbled Hearts

who's to say
why which woman
mingles with the Muse
stagger into the stimulus saloon
and voilà...
little couplets cavort capriciously
maybe some day they'll say
who was this special someone
what was it this woman scattered
petal like in her path
strolling down Attraction Boulevard
over the cobbled hearts, bleeding
from little stiletto heels

Poem - The Word Mote

the least likely little word mote
blows into the eye of the poet
and word tears drip to the page
almost of their own accord
all in a blink of life
but then the vision clears
and the kaleidoscope of creativity
is once more the monochrome reality of life..

Poem - Post Crosshairs

being a dictator
is like being a rock star
short sharp bursts of success
feted by world leader groupies
all chasing after the spotlight
then it turns to guns
you lie there post crosshairs
they exude the same satisfaction
whether you are living or dead
truth  reality  honour
irrelevant in the political weather forecast



By Drax

Poem - The Incessant Bell

the bell was ringing incessantly

what could it mean

a bomb – surely no, Gerry is here

but shit, the conspiracy theorists

a fire,

I smell no smoke

home time – couldn’t be already

tea time – that must be it

I might go down to the canteen, sorry,
the Members dining area

and get a cup of tea and a kit kat

I wonder when there will be a vote

about something

these boyos don’t do much here

ah well €8,234.28

not bad for a month
.
..
_____________________________________
Background: extract from a story yesterday relating to TD voting patterns...
Kerry South Tom Fleming, a new TD, only voted on six of the 20 occasions he was signed in.

But last night he said it took him a few days to understand that the bells that ring around Leinster House before votes were for calling TDs to the chamber..

By Drax Ireland

..

A Poem - Dripping Goodbye

I left the house like aliens took me

what a mess, papers, notes,

half eaten poems

dirty dishes, wine bottles..

and an unmade bed

the shape of her there still

the peaks and troughs of passion 

clear to me in the disarray

echoes of her cries pasted on my wall

the warmth of her body hanging there
in the ice of my mind..

dripping goodbye

.