Criptic Critic Conscience and Known for it

Monday, August 23, 2010

New Edit by Laura Shepard.

Leaving the Academy, I suppose I went.
I need some strong spells,
so completely distracted from corporate duty
Wrapped in normal civil duty
tin foil corsage
A Winter later
When we are all wrong and we all work
Why wouldn’t you try not working.
Whose brave enough?
There’s so much cream already,
And to be honest I’m allergic.
I think that’s great
seeing everything the same.

This days weed tastes of cinnamon
and a forest after the rain,
I've taken to the out doors, cover
discarded for the thrill of the open sun.
the surf is juicy and the surfers are dumb.
My knee is still sore
and it may never heal
Child hood hero's go out , proud
As they always were


The Architecture of her bra lifts
thick folds of fat from her belly
to enclose fields like poppies
puppies sitting up begging to
be plucked like a marshmallow
into thy mouth as if it were
a stomach. the body snaps


Takes it in
a pellet at a time and yet my
scorn tells me
that I'm in need of feeding
of feeling fed from it.
To love a breast is to crave
the softness from the sail, the billow
under a frozen sea where
homelessness could be lost for a second
and the heart beats out of control.

This is a scene from Big
Wednesday, it is wednesday - I
sit at the newly installed park
benches over the break, where
a lone surfer a waits in suit
a skater older than me chats
with a dork, He's legit - a good skater -
but runs a skate shop.
Other heroes turn up in real suits
and sun glasses,
Must be in real estate advertising
must be because of the accent (wanker)
He's come with a slacker busy body,
a stunt double stand in
and man I'm pissed.
But i remember I'm the Bear from the beach house,
i'm the spirit of '62', I'm the notion of freedom,
freedom from being untrue, I look
like a dork but i'm the least dorky
speaking to me will reveal this
to be true. But you surfer are
a wannabe and you're scared of me,
cause i see you
getting it wrong -
and enjoying it.

A public body Acting strangely,
a stretch, a lie down,
a scan of the seas horizon,
lining up the seas shore
fat thrills and folly.
Oh I'm sure
of that.

Only who'd want to look at
that body nearly naked now
either sports man or crew,
either he man or no man,
While wild man he got away.

Mobiles are clouds
do fractals, anti-kaleidoscopes

People grow more beautiful the more their
lives have been under threat.
A beautiful baby quick to pale, not so nice
life twice,

Writing this poem I'm astonished at how
powerful I am, crush and virtue go
hand with hand. I keep the poor
for they are like me.

I approve of what I like
I make a point of littering anywhere I go,
why deprive myself of a living
I didn't pay for this, how could I?
I'm a bum.

I looked at her
I was stunned,
her noticing my face says
'remember you’re not sexy'
and she is,
On a hill I sit
and my beacon Red hat has her lost
to my affection,
support famous love.

On the library steps from Icons - the cities pub
- past the real living invisibles getting smashed
under the bridge,
I take note of the given harmony.
the war perhaps has given slip. Until
online can you hear it
- the war has gone under,
into the online underground.
My cultured response to day light is art
my night time culture in gang banging.
I'm the key and
her hole, king and her horde,
Play self at the center market
On life duality
A wee wand waved pertuity
by a subject youth in full blown costume.

Here comes the fashionable ones, who pull through
the shards of time to patch quilt a sketch
at rebellion the thinking crew of scepticism

Part II The Matriarch

The word I'm looking for is "Pertuitity"
I ask of all people - a security guard
Remember searching for a word,
you go by smell in a forest
For the river, sounds like, feels like,
looks like, there are other words,
that interest, the word the way I think
it is not there,
I just hear it call to me
like a person despite everything wouldn't mind a little
company.

She pulls down the cleavage of her t shirt
a little apparently to adjust her bra,
she's 16 - maybe, I look I have to,
I look up at the word pipe, as she
waits for me to interject, computer put away,
I notice a hidden streak of pink behind
her ear as she gazes over my left
shoulder. Facing me the next desk over
I go to check my phone. anything to help
bring a conclusion to this scene.
I pull out my camera, and try to hide
it she notices - I put it down behind the tombs
and pick up my phone,
flustered it may be a camera, she
leaves walking towards me. I'm on the
toilet aisle, perhaps a connection.

I asked, not knowing how to smell it
I could not know where to look
and she looked into me, like a peek
that goes on for a lot longer
I wallow in her grey eyes search out
the whites and find none but
fertile ground layers of no turning back
and for a moment
her alcoholism touches swords in honor with
my stonedness, Per petuity we both have
trouble saying it, but that's it that's the
word. A thing that lasts forever or
for an indefinite period, in particular
a bond or other security with no financial maturity date.

and you know, I travel.
on a thin wheel my speed is

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