
1.
My elder sister, perturbation,
indulge me,
heedless and headless
rushing towards paradise,
sinister utopia, blissed out
burning hell.
2.
We call to St. Satan Esq: among others,
Prince of Liars, Lord of this World and all its Works,
louche lounger, adolescent rebel par excellence,
horny old goat stroking your neatly trimmed beard,
He who comes and goes, ever toing and froing:
to grant us a show of a little sympathy.
3.
Walking down the avenue,
only a few more
blocks to cross:
but these streets are constantly changing,
losing my bearings,
I call out, where have you gone?
4.
There is a way if you have the requisite will,
dive deep, immerse yourself in the elements,
there is freedom in surrendering to immensity,
being your virgin canvas, empty page, tabula rasa
onto which you scrawl all your needs, wants and desires,
fill the void inside with a phantom of substance.
5.
Swamp of dreams,
Paris, Rome, Toyko, maybe London,
shimmering visions
of eternal decadence:
what a rotten tooth is to love are
you to me.
6.
Parabolas, delirious paranoid constructions,
the sweep and curve of vast cosmic conspiracies.
Something’s not right, something is askew and aslant,
counterfeit currency passed along in a dream,
unveiling the secrets of a banal mystery
ultimate truth is vicious, yet deeply inane.
So surreal , quite decadent, completely fascinating. My favorite lines in this “ being your virgin canvas, empty page, tabula rasa
onto which you scrawl all your needs, wants and desires,
fill the void inside with a phantom of substance.” This poem is a deluge of sensuality fabulously conjured.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Miss Heart, I like the decadent tag, something that comes pretty naturally to me, being an idle rogue and all. I am trying something a little different so bear with me until I have mastered it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You will master whatever you desire I’m sure. Wandering outside the fixed is where the yet to be discovered concepts lie. I admire your adventurous spirit.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Writing is an elusive preoccupation. Mastery is what we seek though with much fear and trembling I feel.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is treacherous !
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love Max Ernst’s birds. Amazing post as always!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Miss Blackpenart. I also love his birds, a constant source of inspiration.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Searching for the pattern, I’m lost. My fault and my phone I’m sure. Marvelous and well crafted writing. Wonderful imagery. I especially like 6.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you very much. There is a pattern, a formal pattern somewhere. Chaos is just order waiting to be deciphered.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The subliminal pattern, like a background tone in a piece of music, you aren’t aware of it but if it’s removed, the piece loses its depth. Chaos is more ordered than the name implies. The numbers and decimal places are just bigger
LikeLiked by 1 person
Very true indeed. Hidden strains of music.
LikeLiked by 1 person