Hinged

Rasp

Comfortably: Confident.

Scrawling, vagrantly, transversing greyed walls

Paper in hand; body stapled to wall.

Weak;

May I from those lips.

A concrete den it was.

Vagrancy hard here when

So contained; so proper. So grey.

Sunshine in hand then

With ease something slips

Crawling awkwardly;

Into something easy,

Something natural; green into

Something confident; yet guarded

Yes. Dark. Dark Green.

Paper thin Offers made; a grilled window ajar

A moment; penitence for grey; a song for Green.

Sharp, crisp, snap call; a kea call

It could have been my bird.

Courtship in sea blue, golden, frolicsome hues

A time of childlessness;

A time for rainbow joy.

Declaring no person; No time

Impending rest so easily,

Fleetingly Orange ruffles; the green filed.

I am the lucky; I am told: I won’t forget.

A moral amicably split

Shared; shared with barraged brain

Of other fantasies;

The fuck fantasies.

Where do I figure here?

It looks; Kaleidoscope eyes

And I could have loved.

I declare, and then wait.

Friendship is pledged on a bog down, wet out night

While the bell bird Kea sang the morn after.

I know this after all;

The green cellophane warps; then melts.

I wait.

Words, words: and words

Sunshiny words, Euphoric words,

Coloured in moments; Sung out words

Scientific words;

The rainbow joy sang out.

Words twisted for gravitas

Words then shunned;

Rustled infinitely: barbed: lost;

Letters hooked on raspy, dry wind:

Waiting.

Achingly waiting;

Achingly co-operatively happily waiting for

The painted in crazy beckoning finger.

The rainbow joy sung.

Days greyed; I slopped; words hung

Decapitated and hanging; bleeding, and dripping; soul less.

Varnish dustier; settled eerily by no work, no words

No words, no words, no words NO words; no words.

The world waited:

The silence graveyardly: death eaten wait.

I hung; quartered, aching, bleeding, dripping; soul-less.

Then decapitated became dead flesh; numb flesh; sad flesh; rotting flesh.

I was with you then

The stench hung

I was with you.

Lines drawn; boundaries made.

Reclusive and swollen,

Red faced, red handed, and still aching

Time was counted, counted

Then counted again.

Clouds turned from grey to green

The grass from green to red

Me; red to embarrassment.

Finer lines strewn electrically

Buzzed with micro disturbance.

And I obsessed and buzzed with it.

The electricity just frizzled.

The frizzle frazzled; then seizing, birthed

A polychrome feather-let rose

Raised a wing; testingly another

Recoiled a head

Uncovering midnight-blue-calm.

The downward wind

The look in the eye

The burn in the cheek

The smarting eyes.

‘but I like giving’

--you count every gift given—

Composure. No tears. No eye contact.

Leave hollowed out. Defeated. Hurt.

Silence then contact. Gush forth

You were right. So was I. I read you. I was being read.

‘War has ended; negotiations met’

The faint old music of yesteryear,

Dim in the new light.

God rays stagger in

Crisp Goldeness; amalgamated Godliness.

Each a muslin layered euphoria

Blinding. Brighter, better; BRILLIANT.

Polychrome Rhythms.

Red.

1 Harp string

Green.

10 harping strings.

Woven single pledged threads

Crisscrossing

Colour. Twang. Light Green.

47 strings. Complete.

Un-flaking when all else is

It takes form; its feathers  

Germinates;

Ruffled

She is Beauty and Wisdom;

This is too.

Promise me that this can last.

This beauty, this wisdom

This you; the you

The Monday smile I wear.

The fluidity that you wear

The knock on your door

The plea coming within.

This you, the you

Why guarded so long?

Why vulnerable in frazzling pain?

Did life ever tell you

You detach. You suffer. You renew.

Were you born but yesterday?

Are you the sentimental tune

That wraps its dusty hymn

Around nauseating awakenings?

And creates that immeasurable pain?

Pained immeasurably

Frustratingly real, controllable, childish;

Tangible but dependent.

Untouchably independent

Frustratingly controllable.

We then

Rose together.

A tawny, scraggly but determined form

Rose over unchanged prosecution;

Made this small fortune

We could afford ourselves.

A clear call to Parvati; mountain air thin.

Two eyes watched;

Universe guided

Throwing Passion above Logic

Of our past.

Tilling Paravati’s field; toiling Passion to awakeness.

Lying under moonlight

Watching smoke rise from our fingers

Threads rethreaded; pledged anew.

Second hands could die a hundred deaths

And we would have not known.

We were in euphoria you know;

Unbridled sweetness.

I could have killed you.

The air thin made me drunk

The sweetness, painful.

We had eyes, hungrily lapping life’s sap.

A triangle sounded; a quartet ebbed away

Drum beats surged

Surged through spinal columns

Bristling neck hairs; dilating pupils.

Gods descended to every neck hair

The trumpets sounded;

The choirs sang

We rose in god rays of gold specks

We ran through dying ochre, summer grass

 And tripped on rusty second hands

Left behind by Green and Red millennia ago.

 I could hate Green, you know.

It is there.

I could shake

I could press my lips against yours

Enraging myself; Connecting anew.

Red tells me so,

But now her death toll rings.

I succumbed to Green’s wisdom, beauty

I shook for it

I crumble for it now.

Your green keeps me coming back

You, Parvati, shed your green feathers

Draw. Me. Nearer.

So it is here

I return.

I whored you for a while.

But I return you now.

The Monday smile complacent;

Satisfied.

Your feathers lie in my room’s corner

A glimmering shrine,

Although fading now.

I have not seen you.

But heard you were

Intwined,

Inseparable

Euphoric

For now. Atleast.