A lifetime of building makes you cold mind you.

art by this guy



At evenings top
we sit and watch
the fences built
around
our houses
and hope that it will keep
the others
out.

And all the while we pray
that the police will step
in and mother
those who we have failed.

Magnolia

We, the magnolia tree
in winter walls white,
and deep:
BLOOM
We are the softest
purple pulp of sad songs
made beautiful,
over the smoothing of time.
Oceans rolled us over
in youth and
ironed all our wrinkles out
and left them floating
absent,
And while the summer young
were smiling,
we were dying.

We huddled gravely
roots cuddled us bravely,
til in the stillest night
of the whitest despair
through season's roof
we broke up through the cracks
in an unlikely pair

royal honoured display
among darkest days
magnolia magnified,
the fairest of fair.

Just some a whistlin'

art by bluealaris


A slip of a bird just whistled at me
from high in old oak tree
came from high as the city
as brave as a sailor
cussing his way through the seas:

"what pretty hips,
and what summer lips",
this was its melody.

And all the hurt stock
that long held me to dock,
were cut and I was free.

AEM July 2011

When Once I held the Sea.

Hold it Inside by SayinBayan



Inside I'm all a liquid,
a lapping and a listless sea,
and if you are to listen near
I'll wager this is what you'll likely hear:

a Howling wind, a Haunted breeze, a Dark in the noon
late quivering breeze,
a stirring deep, a changeful streak, enough to turn
your ear from me.

You see, inside I'm all a liquid,
an oft disturbed keep,
and the way that your eyes pierce
I'll not have sides to hold,
when the sea is drained to the deep.
And then like the mass I'll survive,
in the gasping half shallows of life,
where we share the common pool of remains
that once like the world held the sea.

AEM June 2011

A-Muse-less Park

Photo by Jade


I'm a showground
unripe in untrod soil,
uncoloured by the watery brights,
that drip one night
for a year of light
before they jingle away for their respite.

I'm a ground that for three long breaths,
calls for wonder under skies,
captures gasps of delight
and turns them inside out for sighs
for three whole nights a year.

I'm a sparkling park and people rush to fill me,

But generally through the long seconds that time deals with one space day space and two dead nights and fourteen beats of silence in an echo of what might be nice,

I'm a barren ground where hobos lie down
and young lovers once a month escape
to blow warm air on my cold belows.

We Built a House with Legs

We bend to fit
together
between our hardest aches
we listen for a
rhythm
while our hearts synchronate
and steady
ourselves to stand on our four legs.

We built this house
where tired heads lie.


AEM 2011

People are Mostly Silly and Always Deaf

art by poopgoblyn


We think so many brave soul'd ideas:
like we are deadly, sharp we be,
yet without a spark we sag in sea

We might be potent, lungs are strong
but strike man to hear a silent song

The Bushes and the Barracks spokesmen
poke us with their grand demise
prodding pride in youth and progress
with a babbling design

If we are dangerous, young and strong
where have we hid the Battered ones?
If we are wise and good and right
why do the Gentle find no rest tonight?
If we are noble, pure and pious
Why does the father groan for quiet?

And if in night unwelcome truths come marching in
and doubts of wholeness begin to pin
you do not induce a medicine sleep
but let it speak,
let it speak
Then we might see we need this spark
lest sag in sea, we are defined as dark.

I am a Vase.

photo by Ashveenp

What could I give unto this morning
that is not false, or forced, or frayed?
How could we push with painted hearts of feeling,
our coloured hopes to damaged Deeps?
Why do I strive and in kneed I buckle
to throw in haste with pride my aid,
or should we silent, bent and able
admit that what we need be is sheer;
clear to You, vases, vessels here.

AEM April 2011

Our World is a Spinning Top, and now it's Stopped

art by vedzonius


When fast we move, the world it's spinning
topped the height of delights and trimmings
but now we slow it starts to sway,
and on ground we stay
I never thought I'd be the one to pray.

April 2011 AEM

A prayer

"All that is thirst" Estellamestella

With sweat I'm scared to love him
for with the night
he'll drift away
and under thick cough, his depart
will be the heaviness,
my, heaviness, of, heart.

This faint beat of the day
and, night, and, day
meets every breath with
some morsel of decay
Oh how to stay, to love, to hold
when quick as light
we'll depart to old

Teach me to let light in
to bring each moment
dignity to brim
to love him
limited and faint though be the touch
and in each laugh, each unformed
dream, see much

Teach me to love without
retreat or turn
to dark familiar where I learned
to hold only my own broken
bursts
and now it seems I hold my own
in his
for a moment unto ever
drink his and his my thirst

AEM2010

Molly Coddled Along

This poem was written on one of those dreary train trips in the sort-of-morning time and you are dreamy, dreary and lulled along with the motion.

Film over morning movements
light and distant
dull dabs at my peace of mind,
Eyes look up, lock
on the closest person
until
their stillness pushes hurried worries
down, in the deep down where
they belong in frowns

Allow now I do
the train pull to gather me in
soft, closed eyes
in warm motion, being hummed
and molly coddled along

AEM 2010