Premonition

Premonition

The swagger-boys

came at nine

to set back time;

forgot the tics.

They shaved my head

with Occam's razor;

forgot the brain

burned down my house

forgot the windows

confiscated bullets

forgot the gun.

At last they showed the knife

and took my legs;

forgot the heartbeat

that let me crawl away

on love alone.

~February 2017

" [Hitler] has grasped the falsity of the hedonistic attitude to life. Nearly all western thought since the last war, certainly all 'progressive' thought, has assumed tacitly that human beings desire nothing beyond ease, security, and avoidance of pain. In such a view of life there is no room, for instance, for patriotism and the military virtues. ..All three of the great dictators have enhanced their power by imposing intolerable burdens on their peoples. Whereas Socialism, and even capitalism in a grudging way, have said to people 'I offer you a good time,' Hitler has said to them 'I offer you struggle, danger and death,' and as a result a whole nation flings itself at his feet."  

 ~George Orwell, from a review of Adolf Hitler's Mein Kampf, New English Weekly (21 March 1940) via wikiquote

Flash 55 at     real toads

[Plus~ 1984 ]

Image: Premonition of Civil War, 1936 © Salvador Dali

The Spider Captain

The Spider Captain

An old stuffed dog

and a long legged spider

a bed like a boat

and a web in the corner

a neon nightlight

from the downstairs sign

stiff faded curtains with red designs

to cover the moon;

too many children, not enough rooms.

A place on the couch

that hides a bed

a long legged spider

to cover your head

to rock you to sleep

while the bed-boat sails where

there's a whole new place

you didn't know was there

with 

a purple bracelet and knots in your hair

for Mother to comb out

and make you cry.

On his way to work,

the spider kisses her goodbye.

~February 2017

Looking beyond the obvious

for Fireblossom Friday

at real toads

Image: The Big Spider's Diamonds,  by Edmond Dulac

Fair use via wikiart.org

Sweet Murmur

Sweet Murmur

Your voice is just the murmur

of the wide windy moon

after the storm passes over,

love is just sweet murmur

grinding grit and gravel

as the tide rolls in too soon,

salt over sweet murmur

of the far windy moon

~January 2017

for Brendan at   real toads

Image: Moonrise, Beaumaris © Clarice Beckett

Spider Ascendant

Spider Ascendant

The Fat God preens

on his eight stick legs;

no one tells

how he got so fat.

No one cares

who he ate last night.

 

In his ceaseless spin,

his angry twit,

no one observes the

arachnid eye

fixed cold below on his

appetite's end.

Five hundred mirrors

twice turn back light

on his blinded flies

their wings bloody buzzing

through broken glass

their deathwish devotions.

~January 20, 2017

Image: Ghost Spider © Ceecore, deviantart   fair use

Song From The Underworld

Song From The Underworld

Below the mountain

still 

you were there.

Warm in the dark

my breasts flew out to you

like two ringed doves,

your lips were snowmelt

fading on poppy-fields

white to red, winter to

spring--

springing

soft soft

on my back,

your hands that saved the world

for last,

below the mountain

where the dead abide.

~January 2017

a belated 55 for the new old year..

Photo: © Aurore de Sousa  Fair use via internet

New Year's Fool

New Year's Fool

I am from yesterday,

but not.

My veil is the cloud of a dozen

dead species of moth,

my too-short skirts some dismal fabric

that only comes in black,

like bombazine.

My face is from nowhere,
but not.

My hands namaste,

my hair is a madwoman's coif,

a harlot's passport.

I stole my maryjanes from

a Harajuku girl

stoned in the Mission,

I have no eyes

but 

you feel me watching you.

Some say I'm a fool,

but 
I'm not.

 ~January 2017

 posted for     real toads

a very impromptu write for

Fireblossom Friday:Escape to The Past

Image: artist unknown, fair use.