Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.
" . . .child, climb quietly upwards the sunshine there and whisper
the maiden's dark night's name."
I've a few quid for quail and worn blue balloons for stories
A rotten Oak door and the shadow of a shadow'd whore.
My life is but a benevolence of a master's quilt
A night of sleep, a horizon's longing, a meal without guilt.
Shine high, old moon, and keep your sight from me
Hide my aging hide, Ol' Sol, you are a creeping foe
You cannot speak, sign, or look at a prisoner's flee.
Drink freely, young fools of ancient farmland's sow.
A lauding, clapping, dance and willows roll
She hints at criminal love, a crust, a gentle hand.
Bowing her lovely head no misery to dole.
Lie gently, sweet darling, not a god, but just a man.
Ordered chanting from dark hillsides dark
Musical lies, a prince will die, the wine turned to shame
Her beauty is in his hand, a cloak of taboo stark.
Flesh on his bone, kissing her lips by name.
Elder king and queens live thrice . . .
While mermaids dwell and dine . . .
No silken sails on her barge his price . . .
Oh, beloved, beloved, a final wave, be mine.
Sudden bolt crashing from thunder's lair
Shivering curls of her tiny back . . .
His First Mate, once valiant, ne'er fair.
Mountains rock the ground in silver's sack.
Princess, queens, and myths hang a name in pages
Kings, prince's, and dogs of filthy feet . . .
Children with no faces pass battle's rages.
His hands, her lips, hearts in horizon's meet.
© 2018 Kenneth Avery