17 March 2015

Your Soft Flesh

I want your soft flesh
And curving smooths,
The easy angles
At the bends of your shoulders.

It should be me
Whose lustful  touch gentles across your body.
Who breathes in your tactile scent,
Who brushes away
The delicate texture of every hair

My nervous fingers
Deserve this embrace,
To fasten the tailored clasp,
To squeeze down the lunette
To drop the blade,
To steal this last metal caress.

Submitted at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads' Tuesday Platform. The inspiration started with a line from a Radiohead song: When I am king you will be first against the wall, With your opinion which is of no consequence at all. Then there's the last line, which I owe to Rush.

09 March 2015

Smoke Your Mirrors

Hide this
Behind oxy-white teeth and manicured chin whiskers.
Blend in
With spray-on smells and tiny spearmint squares.
Stealth into
Skinny jeans and vintage print tees.
Cryptofy your voice
In unpunctuated twittered bursts.
Smoke your mirrors.
Fool yourself.

04 March 2015

Cannon Fodder

Bullets and bludgeons
Spears and shrapnel,
Tempered metal blades –
All manner of mortality await,

But not yet.
Hold your position.

The reward for your obedience
Will be blood and pain,
Bodies at your feet,
The smell of burnt hope and charred machines.

Stand ready.
You’re next.

Posted at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Tuesday Platform: Stay Weird Edition. I don't think the poem is particularly weird, but my inspiration was a Primus song, so... I was thinking of the possible futile persistence expressed in the song.
Also, this happens to be the first poem i have posted in almost a year. Shame on me!

Primus, Over the Falls