Monday, October 08, 2012

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even the date was out of date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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By Drax Ireland

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

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

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

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..

Saturday, December 31, 2011

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