Tuesday, March 3, 2009

dance of the fairies

we all do what we do
and in the end there is the madness

the streets are hungry as ever
the crowds burn the effigies of venerated axioms
streams of spit and malice make the air humid
the walruses choke their cries
as the palaces burn with the stench of sad cucumbers

you came here for this?

to swim in rivulets spilling over with tadpoles
once there were the voices
but now they scratch against the empty innards
of a philistines pride
while she waits in the octopuses' lair
and in the rows of boxes with an universe inside each
where the gypsies live

the birds cry out to you tonight

maybe their last cries before their beaks are smashed
against the rueful morning clocks
the pollen in their eyes carry the blame
distilled from persecuted truths
fairies dance on the edges of teacups

what boredom
even the hour hides its excruciating nakedness
the mad bull rips all the fat skirts
and pays a scatological tribute
to the lord of deceit
and the smell of a drugged jasmine stings the skin
lofty serenades of the fiddle that broke probably ruined your head
and your arboreal soul

i peel off eyelids of molasses
and wake sleeping hyenas
their pinhead laughter
pierce termite infested hearts

icicles of rain peel off violent skin
treachery of the night and its endangered name
pigeons hold on to their skeletons with moons in their beaks
ninjas fall off dead in the gloominess of murky shadows
bald temples with their gilded idols
endure time by drinking tea

searing, buzzing screaming night
only the sad song sitting on your shoulder
can soothe the frayed ends of its madness
the edges of rooftops quiver in that song
and the colour of a dark whisper splashing in your ear

cries wash up against the sky
and rain down on the cemetery
that the child carries in his eye
and the weight of the sky on his shoulders
he doesn't shrug

the seasons and their toxic promises
a spoonful of honey
and the rest is fasting
only the cannibals survive
on the apples of a million eyes
and ants that eat into the moon

fairies dance on the edges of teacups

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