| John G. Hall |
| Copyright 2007 Red Pulp Underground |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
Red Pulp Underground
my brain is nervous with the night, my animal spirits are hunting prey in my William Morris wallpaper forests, the black optics of fantasy spilling into both our dreams, you hold in the dark practicing alchemy and though I know you will never ask me, my manic touch questions your flesh, my fingers ticking every correct answer, you wet me with your soft corrections, we scream through the bedrooms brickwork, two ruddy ghosts full of Easter's Catholic purple, our mouths slipped with cinnamon, two sensitive bloods damned up by the gentle tourniquet of love, my fingers caress your fine fur, you become a painted pony, and while you tattoo my bones with your salmon tongue, and while the black reins of your hair slip from my fingers, my demon heart pounds to a stop, my blue eyes blush and the eiderdown's casual galaxy spirals around us. November 2007 |
In the eye of the beholder I look in the pond gold fish swimming in the sky birds fall from pebbles. Red head on my chest living breeze kissing my fur you kindled my beating itch. Icicles burning phantom love exercised candle flesh gasp out. December 2007 |
The Gathering of Moss They told me to be safe that I should stay still like a stone so I slept on through the first dawn of every days creation, slept through the war, slept through the peace, slept through the murder and the mayhem, slept through the deceptions, slept through the truths, slept through the graveyard shifts, slept through the easy births, slept through the learning of my ignorance, slept through the softly stolen lives, slept through the treasure finds, slept through the kisses, slept through the daggers, slept through the approaching comet, slept through the torturing, slept through the heart beats, slept through the bird song, slept through the gun shots, slept through the souls dark place, slept through the smoke and mirrors of living loveless, slept through the government sponsored heroin pushers, slept through the secret states secret arms trade flooding council estates with deadly weapons, slept through the blind eye turned to the cull of our young poor, rather than education and employment, slept through the street war, slept through the grave, slept through the end of time, slept through the lightning of your nervous touch, slept through your thunder storms, slept through my own lonely death, slept through my own goodbyes, O to sleep so sound in the barbed wire of the mad laid mind but they told me to be safe that I should stay still like a stone. So here I sit the gathering of moss my guilt. December 2007 |
my bubble keeps bursting me out a million mistakes made of hopes, meaning no harm by breaking bones tumbling down my heart lands wrong side up in your sweet marbled arms Cleopatra's eyes flash looks at mars, missy Buddha figures out eternity on the back of one minute of clarity, weather sweeps through the trees my monkey hangs on even tighter down town you sit in all the empty places reserved for my holy tears, wise woman throwing friends over her shoulders like no tomorrows, somewhere butterflies suck blood. December 2007 |