!* Dark Cabaret *!

I dream in Greek of the perfect man.
Of him dreaming with me in distant lands.
But a carcass picked clean upon the sands,
is my heart in another man’s hands.

and i’m boiling,
dressed all in black like a crow or a widow,
wondering why i am where i am
instead of lying in your arms

Pixies highlight the ethereality
as the night sky falls upon you

Communications not working,
Points of view not the same,
My darling, my sweet,
The one I will maim.

By allowing the elaborate collage of words to paint imagery they may only have encountered dripping out of their most unexplainable dreams…

the city sleeps.

sin rises like a dirty
vapour from off the crazed
paving stones
and permeates the darkness

multiples of now
or if they multiples be
or how many were
.
juddarwin
.
.
.
.
.
.
ultimate reality haiku
.
a matter of now
that all kinds of extension
are multples of
.
juddarwin

every day the drab and gray
pierce me
with a sun blinding sword
meant for its mark

my days
the build up
of droplets on my windows
my view
an insidious blur

wishing to scrape away
what is not even there
I crav…

The wind, on this blue night,
is howling like a banshee,
sad voices carried on it.

a matter of now
that all kinds of extension
are multples of
.
juddarwin
.
.
.
.
.
ultimate reality haiku 2
.
multiples of now
or if they multiples be
or how many were
.

juddarwin

growing from tiny droplets
into huge crashing waves
long after you forgot about
the rain that birthed them

sadness and regret
fall
like dirty grey
snow upon the stiffening
corpse

Like the Wind Vane I Wait for the Signs of the Wind

A storm is a brewing in the horizon and it’s calling out my name
A raging, howling storm is a brewing
And it’s headed my way
It’s co…

demons
so deep
lost in dark sleep
speak through my eyes
to ages
too young
too meek

I’m sitting in a colourful cafe on Queen Street…

yes i have not stopped
watching venus rise out words
become daily prayers
.
juddarwin

as; like the muse i
knew: no, used to read of
even if long after I
could read only wordsworth
as though but he, worthwhile;
like i did that juliet kid &
ophelia’s hamlet, without
moving elsewh…

cold fronts have
turned into cold war
grey banks of silence
heading this way