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Odds & Ends #13: Royalty

 


Bone. I am bone. Rock. I am rock. And all the polls show I am immaculate. Pierce me with your dagger, I dare you, my ribs are hollow. Pump me to the brim with tincture, make me immortal in the your time domain, stretching beyond the toils of punctured blood. No bacteria swarm my skin, no ants will again bring me home for dinner. I am bone, my home is preserve, shining like the barber's utensil. I am bone, and my time remains. 







New Rule

Cling on over
Its a brain disorder

Paralysing the house again

Shout timber as the face falls

But the crown will stay 

Giving way to the circle within


Granted, for taking time

Wise guys holding high old rhymes

About power, and money, and sexual desire

The kids fall deeper in the muck and mire

Pumped from nature

By a machine that will never tire


Brought all that will clang

To surface on this obsidian ship again

Crash ho on the mountaintop 

God in waiting to the teardrop

Of a people in hope

In the mode


Single distant pervert doth wrote cute

“Whistle for me with thine brain flute”







Calmly, Gently

I rest my case inquisitive

On the boulevard with my missive sieve

Street folk yawn at the freedom to

Quiet the brawn of freedom from


Get along with thy neighbour

No matter he’s a slaver

The street width will give sanctuary

No matter the roots on which his sign sits


You might have to call a paver 

Those roots are thirsty

Drinking the road’s undertow

Ensuring cracks beneath your feet


Sieved out stone crumbs caulk with concrete found flaws

All that remains are the rough formed ideals 

The rough formed idea of a better world

Everything finer just percolates through







Who Are We?

The river doesn’t stop for winter

No matter how much the ice hides intent

I hear it now

Flowing

Crashing into itself

As water does

The wind runs with it

Also invisible

Dead branches betraying intent

Although they numb my hands

The fault is mine

I am the wanderer

They are nature, with instinct divine








Plead for stevia, the sugar ration's low
Who put politics in my bed under the mistletoe?
Crankshaft engines pouring lead in the water
I'm sweetened and I'm stained

Love,
Steffen
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