1993 |
I
The wet window whispers
Sickly
Like a cactus that is
Prickly
Sidget cannot resolve.
II
Do they feed? Do they?
They breathe if you look closely enough
There is a spot of paint dribbling
Blush!
A hush rushes through diffusing the ever ringing...
It is green! Crikey, look at that!
And I always thought! Look!
I want to show you what I mean!
Get off your butt and look at this
It's fucking beautiful!
Thankyou kindly, a thousand kisses,
And now we return to our advertised schedule.
The choir is humming
The baby is crying
- Didn't we kill that last time?
The baby is crying
- Ignore it this time
The fool is dying because it
cannot comprehend:
It always searches
but searches the wrong end.
They really should have made a sign:
OPEN OTHER END
Sleep!
Never can get enough!
So exquisitely beatiful,
so nice
The most temperous art becomes a vice.
III
Don't breathe on the glass
or I'll break your arse
Don't feed the -
take your hand away!
Please sir, may I have another?
Please sir, another?
Give me more, give me more
Till the pleasures I endure become a sore.
Raw/Chore/Flaw!
Boor.
If we were cast upon a moor I would not tell you as much.
But this is no pasture.
IV
A thousand reminisces
Irresolute blisses
Still you refuse to move;
What is it?
Is that seat stuck to you
Like some creeping demon
With claws unconsciously entangling -
Spreading roots
Gluing through you
Growing inside you
Sticky;
As it roars, you hear it singing,
An echoing eddy in a silent field -
But this is no meadow.
So move away from the window.
V
Every memory becomes a reproduction,
Every conception becomes a repercussion,
Every heartbeat is already rotten
The core of a fruit already forgotten.
Copyright © 1995-2010 Conrad Parker <conrad@vergenet.net>. Last modified Tue Feb 19 2002