#60
 
 

Politics of UN

by

    A diplomatic rug burning for an ankle biter sipping on an orange bitter coming of an aged port town harbour swabbing at the unhinged deck for a house of cards dealing and folding at the spectacle for an eye watching a space between your brows by [more]

 

 

A diplomatic

rug burning

for an ankle biter

sipping on an

orange bitter

coming of

an aged

port town harbour

swabbing at the

unhinged deck

for a house of cards

dealing and

folding at the spectacle

for an eye

watching a space

between your brows

by soothing the tension

of tight neck noughts

by whispering sweet

nothings into your

ears burning

while turning around

beside ones self

and dancing

cheek to cheek.

 

While idle hands

care for

a careful entropy

full of care

built inside the

the pillars of the earth

supporting the keystone

holding up a

damp foundation

echoing in empty vaults

stock piling guano

in hopes that time

will turn it into

gold

gold

gold

gold

gold

gold for pick pocket

monkey

stealing coins

and taking bits

of bites

of the daily catch

of the daily beast

snagged on a fishing

line string

tossing hopes

and dreams

down a wishing well

while swinging

from the rafters

in pure arabesque

 

A smart

pungent aroma

permeating like

a decay

smelling like

an oyster

card for the moment

too late to miss

side stepping

the line

and falling in

the rain

releasing

a downpour

and downgrading

from mudslides

into white

russians flooding

to wash away

the love between two

foes.

 

peering

peeping

peering

and peeping

and peering

into

peepholes

who used to see

by the sea shore

a history of scars

sticking out like a

sore thumb

exposed by the

eroding walls

occupying the banks

for a wanderer above the fog

trying to read

B & P

with closed lips

along the expanse

across a fence

of picket teeth

of brittle plaque

and bright

enamel pipes

hollowed out

for a whistle

blower

to gust away the

tepid seas

churning

into a

perfect storm

 

An addiction

is a full circle

circumnavigating the ring

bahn to ban

a good place to start is

the beginning

from the end

of a borderless

perimeter

for a mouth

open wide

open up

opening

smearing a

red lip hanging

from a bottom lip

quivering

into a closing

and

a lifting

of the chin

to gaze down

the nose of

sin.

 

reheating

a bubbling

grilled cheese

in hopes to consider

a space between

its molten ravines

while drawing lines in the sand

to divide and conquer

and crumble

and rot

and mould

and perish

from aggression

into digestion

of acid reflux

and gastronomic influx,

to eat and pray and love!

to all laid bare

on a cool slate

of cold economy

immaterialized by

labour

and laboratory

and lab

for a petri dish.

 

Mottled thoughts

riddled with german verbs

and spanish lisps

in a language

tossed like salad

riming at the brim

bulging at the bib

of a boiling

bibimbap

melting and simmering

the cauldron

while stirring the pot!

behind whispers

over wireless cables

carrying fuzzy incantations

asking,

is there wifi

on Mars?