Wrenching, the black comes up
from my lungs-
smoker's cough unsteadies
the paint can in my right hand.
Contorting, a small splash of vomit,
I hold my shaking body and
drop the scotch upon the floor;
dirty golden on the floor.
And when I wake up,
I find my heart has spilled out too-
late morning in the window,
the canvas speaks so true.
J
Last edited by Jack of Hearts; 07-13-2011 at 12:07 AM.
Investigations
And if you were to ask me
Why I'm here,
I'd say - to let the coffee steam.
I'm not waiting for anyone, no.
There's no mafia-licked paper strewn
in the street outside.
Don't tell me, you think I'm a Nightjack,
here to rob the night of its
illicit crown.
No, I wait for no one.
I've haven't got an alibi
but believe me,
I'm here for the drink-drug,
the black heart grime of an
instant kick.
Don't shoot,
Look, the night is blackening still
Be on your way.
Leave this capped gentleman
To his night-numbness.
Walk on into the waiting dark.
http://www.google.co.uk/imgres?imgur...t:429,r:10,s:0
Originally Posted by Elision
Playing a Game
Jane plays a game of cards alone.
Eventually she wins
And so she plays again the game.
Addictions jerk us all the same.
Her mind through time though grins.
The next image, Midnight Dreamers, is by Alla Tsank whose work I saw at an art fair recently.
http://www.atthegallery.com/painting.../midnight.html
Is it okay if I post this link on the topic? (If anyone objects, I'll cheerfully delete it.)
http://www.online-literature.com/for...ad.php?t=63084
Look at the stars
I can touch them
They are closer to me
Than the truth about our lives
Dou Gerrit, "The Physician"
http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb....ePhysician.jpg
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