Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Yellow Bisque

Canaries swim beneath the depths of an ocean of futility.
Yellow tears dance their cheeky tango gracefully down green eyes,
On broad cheeks kissed by a lover’s blessing body;
The outside world is immediately incinerated.
The ashes douse the senses, manufacturing an intoxicating stupor;
Unusual emotional contortions twist heated auras.

Graciousness becomes indigent despite bathing in generosity.
The sun rises with a festive pomposity.
An uncertain madness is juxtaposed against a certain eros;
Its’ confusion reaches back to antiquity.
Traditions and social constructs shackle passionate immorality,
Dubious yet sanctioned,
Sacrificial lambs are roasted and basted on a hamster-wheel.

Stripped of light-hearted innocence;
Raw, yet stewing in bloody reality.
Pretentiousness cowers behind its transparent guise;
As humanity’s sun orbits your Earth;
The epicenter is hard to pinpoint.

A yellow Rose rests its aching stem;
Surrounded in the shadow of the valley of life,
It radiates gorgeous imminence.
A rival Daisy from its past,
Looks for shade under a sunflower.

Virgin reefs house aquatic yellow-tails;
Uncorrupted by pollution,
Yet woefully inadequate to withstand natural selection.
Those blue waters mix with maze to nourish a green-eyed monster.
Raging peace incompetently ushers in depression.

In its cage, the Canary no longer sings;
Its feathers, an imperial yellow,
Have fallen from grace.
Even so, its beauty cannot be denied.

Monday, December 05, 2005

Soothing Fundamentalist

Interwoven in primordial passions,
scathing hypocrisy douses an olive branch with gasoline;
An inferno will adjudicate this dilemma.

Earth moans in ecstasy cultivated from its warm soft core.
Nucleic acidity rivals popular neurosis.
Phallic astonishment laments a guilty pleasure;
pulsating gyrations erode a thinly projected exterior,
illusions are thrust deep into the world at-large.
An original sin raises much like a phoenix from the ice-age.

Progressive demolition;
Ecclesiastic rebellion.
Convenient isms taunt the natural way of things.
Social re-conditioning will luckily free us into slavery.
Isn’t this what we ask for?

Salivating sensations emitted from a feminine neckline;
A tawdry imagination liberated from human guilt,
anticipating a loving indecency ripe with contradictions.
That sensual arch is worth killing for.
A lifetime of promise is worth dying for.

A thermal mentality is often smothered in regret.
Passive frigidity is difficult to warm.
On a shared plane, springs cushion the essence of peace,
Reconciliation is propped with feathered comfort;
A gentle touch demands a penance it gladly receives without compunction.
All the while, an individualistic blanket keeps us in loving comfort.