orgami's Diaryland Diary

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fuck that (memory appeal)

I remember you alive and well
the dung swarth days
and you whose hands could heal
you swore The instruments
your tools you worshipped with
such zeal How the streets
were zapped with iconic lure
the steam rising from ziggaurut
gutted ruin in all that flickering
wrath you heard the voice of angels
singing And the hucksters and
the hustlers bumped your sway
looking for the easy lift their
plying trade their silent ways
and the sewers gulped the heavy
rains that spattered and foamed
along the crooked cracks and broken
souls and baptised their spent
ghosts like crushed condoms on
the emerald green of the dark

fuck that glory day warhorse
we dragged its head on tours
of meaning Recanting the spirit
faces that lept to you for seeing
and how you touched them all for
gleaning treasures of the INTERCHANGE and the pale mermaid
wandered from the turn basin
her storm wild eyes and electric
air little black gloves and
a locket that always caught
in the breeze of her hair
How I loved her in the dirge lairs
and touched her along the tenement
halls the stones that grew beneath
her ballerina feet "I can feel them"
she said "for I am a princess of the sea" how the years split our veneers and the vision fell from us
like tired eyes I need to dream you here and feel the silk of your murmur on my hand
the sea was always caling me

8:59 a.m. - 2011-10-02

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