Lacri Mosa : Vates Lingua

Dapple Blue spires, form the silky bars that line my infinite cage

Blue is my only enemy, even I barely suffice a note

The Blue is the Great nullifier, this cage, oh what a rotting hell it is!

Few things escape its loving folds, she envelops this place,
grasping, charging, trapping and killing

Need escapes through cracks in the cold flesh,
Whispering through finite corridors to infinite ears.

Perched, wary of my Needs, knowing of my cry, its magnitude

And swiftly delivers

Pomegranates, my favorite, grace an ivory plate, clad in phoenix feathers, whose once bright red, now burns a dull pink.

Emerald Eye strikes the chord, of ancient mariner,
the blue churning itself into a heaving sea

Granite slab rises diligently, he knows what he is doing

We ferry across the thick sea, plotting courses all to mighty to contrive

Cascades of Bluish brine, torrents and floods, massive waves, heave on high!

We sail, and sail across foreign seas within malignant lands

An isle rises, a strip of land marginal in its being
A small shack, if there ever was a thing, lies perched
made of a white, red and yellow speckled stone

a blessed relief from this Blue Hell

A home for me at last, perhaps?

She is a Roman Beau, though a little askew

Columns sway, like Irish Drunkards, left and right in queasy winds.

Inside the motif of failed grandeur plays out,
A bed made of reeds and grass
No doubt not from this blue Hell

The frames of quirky glass interiors painted a black-blue

Floor, jumbled mess of precious stones, visible surfaces polished smooth
Edges all a fraying dapple grey.

My feet limply step, clumsy on slippery stone
My granite home, now a meager door-step.

I breath the salty sea air, stepping on Reed Bed
Satisfying in its crunchy composition
Lying down I ponder of years past, nothing important arrives
Small, meaningful fragments, pleasant heists, beautiful women.
That night the trigger slipped
The shell impacting, ,crashing, crushing, crisply snapping.
I Smile

“One Shouldn’t Smile, Smiling.       Is Not Right.”

I tell myself this, but the voice is real.
I hear it.
But, Outside My Head.

Smile! That wretched Demon! He has me in his snaring grasp!

“You Are A Strange One”

The voice is clearly not mine, simply an honest reflection.

“do you fair well without food. Absence of belly, appetizing?”

                                 I frown, I am pleased.

“ That is well, I shall see you in the morning, with your Happy-Frown.

The Voices Word Is Law.

The Land of Nod does not come quickly.
I idle upon my cell, its blue allure gone.
Green returns, my verdant mother fondles my transcended pulp of mass

I shed tears, and feed her vigorously.
She hums upon my salty brine
It’s luscious nectar, feeding the festering blooms
Violets, Roses, Tulips, Poppies, and the casual Rest
Flutter endlessly in the gale of Now-Not-Seen Blue Hell

Mother Earth, Verdant Children
I spare you a kiss.

Falling asleep on mother Verdance is well
I rock softly in her purest of green arms

All Is Well and Good tonight!