I saw myself meandering through those streets
which once were the lovely galleries of time…

age has ruined the lame,
as always
and
upon the lacerations of time on poor skins
we new lives want to begin
sad as it may appear

but what will they do
for whom solution of poverty is dear,
money dearer too

they can only bark at those already down trodden,
what else can they do
but to let ruins be the final outcome,

strung taught
temptress gleans an edge
hovering above holy
to the surrendered one

paten shines
glistening wet with adore
pain the welcome price
grail reachable

aflame
candles upon the alter
offer reverence

flagellation
mind body unite
explosion
cosmos condones
this petty flight

Canto Twelve ~ The storm is in its last hours as Gundhag races to the battlefield.

All the region is aware of the tumult caused by the boy and his ill contrived adventure. Few, if any, might understand. Legionnaires scattered about the countryside huddle fearfully in campsites. Their original purpose was to collect resource materiel left behind in combat. Some of them now await more than the storm’s end.

A terrified cry emanating from the monster has brought the witch quickly and without customary store of tools mystical or otherwise.

The King Of Hearts
sits 'round the table.
Shuffling, cutting and dealing
he lights another.

The Jack of All Spades
too drunk to play,
oggles the women
as he lifts his shot glass

Ace of Clubs
rolls his eyes.
Come on losers
we're playing cards
not the grab ass game.

Emerging from her corner booth
she eyes them all.
Hips swaying, breasts bouncing
six inch heels tapping on the floor.

There used to me
there used to be her
others would concur
we'd always be together, travelling the town
dream one day to travel 'round
unravelling the rubble of our trouble love
from the first day fitting like my leather gloves
now it's winter and I don't have her
now it's winter and she don't have me
the days pass, some fruit, some glumly
she gotta pay her debts, elementary
while I push back regrets to try and fly from this tree
what we share in common? Life's a mystery

Rembranches reaching through
Heavenly hollows in the clouds
Tranquilly shaping unguided thoughts
of gardens in vasettes
deeply set in delerium

Stopping beside a new clear cut
which wasn't here last week.
Old logging road's a skidder's rut.
Life's blood of pine stumps leak
perfuming this new ruin's air.

Weather is southern summer hot.
A whirlwind raises memories;
ghosts of where game once was sought
on land once shaded by tall trees.
Mixed woods that are no longer there.

we wasted false idols
bathing in the turn basins
a summer sky flamed
voltile

crawling through weeds
the summer shone
in your rich irises
the night burned
in the bright pupil mystery

the dead apostles we scrawled
on our mounts
war horses
scratched

like us
enriched with scars
believers of the great pain

I’d Damn You God

They try to break us
using a people who are lost,
never seeing what is given
as labour, only counting cost.

Their ivory and silver tower
a testimony to greed, money
rationed out like it lives,
ignoring what people need.

Imported beggars nod off each morning,
I hear soft rumblings, is it a warning.
Will it be heard by those who drain
our power, will I see the end the final
hour.

hardly any readers
this site is going slow,
so many lie low
many don't know
where else to go

so in the embers
of a dying fire
we all want to search a glow
perhaps that was a
glow worm
no show…