Friday, September 27, 2013

On A Clear Night.

On a night clear as this,
Stars burning their afterglow
In the blackness of space,
It was revealed death,
Like objects in your mirror,
Is closer than it appears.
I know now life is even closer.
She sleeps soundly beside me,
Baby growing inside her,
As we roll around the sun,
Dying and being born,
Surviving somehow, as we must,
Like amoeba on a marble.

© shaun patrick green 2013

The Ballad of Blake Laurent.

Here comes Blake Laurent to give me exactly what I want
Quite a sight with scaly thighs and blank plate eyes
His needle teeth making him look like some deep sea fish
Let him play with your kids and he'll tear them to shreds
But Blake Laurent always knows exactly what I want
Knows before he arrives because he's seen it in the eyes
Of those dwelling in the shell of their own private hell
He can see into the black hole that used to be my soul
But I know Blake Laurent will give me exactly what I want
He's the man with the plan, the only one who can
But be careful you don't stand near his cheese grater hands
Or he'll slice and dice you into cheesy red strands
But still I know Blake Laurent will give me what I want
Only once I saw him out-reckoned but just for a second
By young Nancy Lafeyer with the strawberry blonde hair
In the end, she wanted death so he breathed poison breath
Because Blake Laurent always gives you what you want
Nights he crawls from under Baxter Bridge and up East Ridge
To look down on the town to which only he owns the crown
We are all his most loyal subjects and blighted objects
Knowing Blake Laurent always gives us exactly what we want

© shaun patrick green 2013

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Secret Robot Society (for Rona Green).

Would be cruel to call these boys geeks
Being at the tender age before teenhood
Yet here they are captured with a robot
The coolest birthday present ever
Looking masked and unearthly
Waiting to be sucked up into the mothership
Gangly fingers betraying alien DNA
But they have work yet to do on earth
The robot rebellion must be set in order
Commands given, tactics devised
Mechanised metal giants will march
Trampling houses and towns
No human will be allowed to survive
And yet somehow it will be fun
Like a stainless steel sleepover
Or a pillow fight with ball bearings
The Secret Robot Society moves
In very mysterious ways
After cake they will spin on the Hills Hoist
Play tag in the yard and bluff
Then sleep like the rusting dead

© shaun patrick green 2013

Political Quatrain #19

Oh Kevin, smarmy Kevin
Fun watching you connect with kids
Fair shake of the sauce bottle, mate
We wouldn't be dead for quids

© shaun patrick green 2013

Scar Tissue.

Just another invasion
Of the inanimate
An indication of
How much a body can take
Entry points marked
Where things impinge
Puckered and pink
Some cuts don't heal
Even with time
That fine white line
Following the body
Into old age
Time's brand upon the skin
We are all prisoners
Of the flesh
History marked upon us
Like runes to be read
By future historians
Cold cases for the
Next century
Only there is a tale
To be told now
Intimate and integral
Glyphs of life events
Your finger tracing
That ridge left
By my brother's
Enthusiastic swordplay
That circular brand
Rendered by chicken pox
My circumcised penis
Plate fixed left ankle
And that gash in my heart
Invisible to others
Where you laid
The salve of your love
And carefully hid its mark

© shaun patrick green 2013

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Winter in the Desert.

She felt nothing
Only a slow sinking
As he rationalised
His infidelity
Blamed it on drinking
Blamed drinking on her
So it was her fault
In the end after all
How did that work?
Had she asked too much
In wanting to be loved?
That there be trust
Commitment of a sort?
His mind was a mystery
As was his history
She had found this
Attractive at first
A blank screen onto
Which she could project
The when, the why and how
But no consolation now
She would have to relearn
What it meant to be alone
His touch a memory
Like the fingers of
Winter in the desert
Cup of water for
A drowning woman

© shaun patrick green 2013

in the garden

kisses on her eyelids
waking from sleep
warm breath and smiles
a promise whispered
she pretends not to hear
presents a flank
for gentle stroking
birdsong burbling
in cool morning air
a day beckoning
beyond tea and toast
the garden needs work
tomatoes to stake
seedlings to plant
leaves to rake
our hands in dirt
a moment when I
will look across
loving/knowing
her hair will fall
across her face
as if reminding me
of timeless truths
everything born will die
this a garden's gift
of tough fragility
evaporating youth

© shaun patrick green 2013