Archive for Spoken Word

Chronicle

Posted in poems with tags on November 14, 2013 by Phillip Barker

Image

(The photo is a piece of graffiti found on a Thornbury backstreet. Artist unknown)

 

This is a co-write with my buddy – Joan van Houten.

Moon low, sun high
The rails stretch out

Chronicling the rapture,
Drowning trees await the storm.

In lunacy’s first light
Even heaven hesitates today

Draped in cheap red satin,
The Black Queen sings the witching hour.

Drowning here
Shifting fears move again
On the black widow’s tears

Predawn river twirled
on the tips of fingers
dancing in moonlight
and bliss.

What it all means?
Down to the local haunt
chaotic dancers stomp out of time
to bone cracking bass –
music too loud to allow thought –

She sends him a postcard.
She cradles her bleeding heart
As she whispers of daydreams

Moonless night –
corporeal impressions
as the flesh speaks in whispers

Laughing ghosts
walk back and around,
Vinyl voices grinding out of tune.
Old songs,
licking the bricks of broken rooms,
Old wounds
worm-holed and forgotten.

dark self-portrait
A thousand shades of grey

A portrait of eternity lost to time…
The slow, easy crest of stone cold faces
Etched in places that have never been.

Dead-lover prowls the periphery –
Dead? we can only hope
gone too far past midnight
On – into the day’s first hour

Crystal waves shatter on the shore.
Broken, she bleeds.
She waits – no more