prisoner

when i strip away everything you love, what will you do?

blinded, you may no longer think in images
every trace of sight in your memory will be stripped

deafened, you may no longer think in sounds
music could never have saved you, anyway

stripped of words, no more language to formulate your thoughts
where will you turn to then?

every nerve i bind with knots
every limb i paralyse

Is it a dark prison

And does it set you free?

hands

churches of light

or mosques

a jerusalem
of brand new
suffering

hands that come
together and
reach for
it

like makeshift trees

arms have twined
around each other
like the serpents
of Asclepius

limb, fly away

and take the whole world
along for the ride

serpent rose endeavours (II)

http://minimalbears.blogspot.com/2012/01/serpent-rose-endeavours.html

going to the dogs

All that shimmers has shimmered enough.

My shirts in lurid colour

and vulgar belts and trinkets

stand up of their own accord.

They walk out to the dogs.

The day is a white, bright intensity

where nothing can resist the 

urge to step out of hiding.

The dogs become fashionistas

while I ruin myself in rapture,

like a potato left in the oven

to bake endlessly.

poultice

Teddy, you can't sing. You have no charisma.

I think you need to find better things to do with your time.

like reading the news.

tending to plants.

wearing nothing but boxers

in the snow after a hot bath

just think about it

the thought of death is a poultice

for that kind of suffering.

bears

http://minimalbears.blogspot.com/2011/12/disappointed-bear.html

what to do when rose.



1. stand still
2. bereft
3. upsurge, breath

4.

the twin
of emptiness



(0) (no more words)



http://minimalbears.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-to-do-when-rose.html

piggy

you're a dog, you're a dog and you're a dog. as for you, you're a pig. we're driving to the slaughterhouse in a cramped and stifling van. I drive slowly to drag out the journey and bathe in squeals of suffering.

fire

The roses have gained sentience

Their screams become audible

as they loot the soul of man


Running riot, breaking through
the gardens and into electric
cables

I took my first sip of coffee
and woke to a television
screen smashed and filled
with petals

They burned down our houses

Petalled babies with
indulgent smiles
and a love of fire

serpent rose endeavours

Have you seen the Serpent?

Rose wants to know

The blood has left her body-

and she stands resolute,

dressed all in white

Suffering has flown away,

along with human warmth

The lines on her face remain the same,

but her eyes have fully conquered light.

medicine wheel

Rapture

As the small hours of the morning

grow up and consume the darkness,

the rapture will spread softly

like a puddle of ink

through paper

All of our notions of self

will go to live with God

in some unbearable heaven

We'll live after the day

of judgement, quietly

at first- sublimated

and transformed

as if by grieving

We all know rose
and serpent days
Still, like deep waters

We all know grief
in the construction
code passed down
through generations

Serpent's Arrow

No longer will I curse and resist

I have emptied and constricted 

my heart 

And move out

into wilderness

of Thought

In my dreams I can fly now,

slung out through cloud and dust

Following the lines of the serpent

.........

serpent's arrow. death tip on a wing, curling into an infinite endeavour. will it pierce the void in it's boundless flight. or restrained by unseen limits, resound through the flesh in brutal waves?

a reflection on my obsession

The Serpent Rose, in any attempt to describe it,

becomes a false conception

A cheap and morbid fantasy -

but when it presses down on suffering,

it is a manifestation of the soul we live in

Or rather, the soul I live in

How can I speak for anyone else?