In Glorious Advent

This sullen hock,
my leather'd fever
shall lay in fragrant pose,
with strained mouth
objecting to its demise.

@Steven Francis poems 2010

In Cloves Of Ice

Obelisk in shell
smooth as a diamond devil
nestled in a hornets cove.
The organs throb ~
heart first
lungs entwined,
buttery glands slopping in fissures
while the cadaver yawns in earnest,
dead eyed as sharks.

Bloodcurdling echoes roar over the eyelash forest
as winter descends onto mortal shores,
and the bullet squinted mass hurled to oblivion.
Those pits where fish quiver,
drilled on thistle barbs to be sucked dry
by rats and serpents ~
those splintered gutsy angels.

And hell's things eager to corrupt
salivating to poison hilts.
The murder wax,
glinting swords sequined with ruby droplets
plunge into a zulu moon to skewer song
and slice memory to ribbons.
Another gulp of polished flesh
a twist of knuckle,
there lay the abominable, delicate babes
in a new sound of ages...

@Steven Francis poems 2010

It Takes Longer To Dry In Real Life Than In Film

Rest In Peace ~
as universal as Coke,
and fitting as Wrangler jeans on a printed herd
the world in dire threads.
Blitzkreig bonanza whipped up in a cauldron,
never envy one mans luxury for another dies
wasted in pain.

Welcome to the gunships ~
to the revelry of smoking corpses
and delight of sabres winking in a gore fest.
Time is stretched
or snapped like fish bones,
there is no middle road up for grabs.
Its all grenades or dandelions...

@Steven Francis poems 2010