Ramblings and Poetry


chasmic maids
of clandestine thought,
their eyes ablaze,
raise their ideas aloft in union.
in sunlit dustbowls,
secret agents cleanse
and sink to levels of perfection,
their initials carved in softest kiss
on the annals of deception.
creative souls that define art
defy routine inspection
and grace the covers of dissent
and build towns of toxic description.
the hireling waits to waste such time
as cannot be applied to distinction.
night music wafts across the yard
while aromas break the silence.
saliva joints fulfil their roles
and Maryanne is blessed suspended.
her manhole cover slips awry
and messages the legions.
everyone I know is here
in absence and attendance.
finally I see the rocks that roll
in sunlit shadow stasis
and the trigger man is not for hire
on your dismantled basis.
your invitation to neglect
is rejected by malfeasance.
I bought a fresh batch yesterday
in your lady’s painted parlour
and her dexterity is legendary
while her liquid lips are smiling.

© James Sapsard 2015

Sometimes, we're just out of it.

Sometimes, we’re just out of it.

Image © James Sapsard 2015

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