ANNEX 1.0

“These days everyone is writing their final book,” Bonney notes in Our Death (Commune Editions, 2019), published just a month before he died. The ANNEX 1.0 commensurate with the fevered, queasy, anxious, often tedious nature of the current global mood.

The boor world is filled with more masks than human faces.

Carnal mortals now wear the mask that grins and lies,

Where it hides the cheeks and it’s shaded eyes.

The debt is paid to human guilt,

With torn hearts faking smile and mouth with myriad subtleties.

How the world is over-wise in counting all our tears and sighs!

Nay, let them only see the adequate, while the lummox wears the mask.

People today smile,

But, the cries, from tortured souls arise to Christ.

People today sing,

But, the clay beneath is so vile, that the feet run down against the mile.

So let’s play the right cards in the game of life.

Underneath the luminous stars on the black canvas,

With eyeball, the glitters and relish their blink.

Sweet syrupy jaw, rhyming and quarrelling to take a chance to overcome one,

Hands clasped and hashed with adjoined soul ushering love by telepathy.

Living in the arms scarfed around scruff.

Be the ears harking tales from the heart that makes you deaf,

That can only listen to true heart tales.

Be the blind that can only see the beautiful faces.

Be the stoner that can only smoke the bouquet.

Be the casualty that can only walk, as humanity a crutch.

Be the patient that can only be fed by kind hands.

Be the dead that can only die for others.

Stare the more galaxies in the eyes,

Than the number of stars in the sky.

Scent the more fragrant flowers in the body,

Than the fathomable flowers on the soil.

Comments

Wine From The Cask

A wish fluttered in my heart, A desire soon to be fulfilled. There's a grace she carries in her beauty, They belong in the heart, in the superior guild. I look into her heart, The beauty I read gave me realization; A fine lady, with warmth and good at the core, Covering no picture of physical description. Her beauty taught me what eyes are, And the words that create a poem; The story is engraved and made immortal, Unfurling untold takes in an exquisite rhythm. Unwittingly intoxicating, Words pour out like wine from a wooden cask. Drunk on stories and high on poems, I fall on her lap with a million stars to dusk. Leaking and dropping, It fell on me, feeding me peaceful sleep. I drowned, died, and was resurrected; I was dragged to a side unfathomably deep. Bright like a crowns smile, The charm turned my world around. In it, grey sky spoke of her fair fac...

Silent the Monster

The clock strikes the time but you are still awake, Thinking & thinking about the day that awaits. Where you stand on the bridge in stillness & fear, For the monstrous scream that driven you here. Beneath you is a murky firth, between the two ends complain, The oceans you spun and you must sail strong. Your mind would be against to sail, But your heart should tell you to prevail. To be stronger but lighter than ever again. Hold on for the euphoric, Endured to conflate the numb prosaic. Silent the monster’s scream, To shine through the cold & dark dream. Triumph the battle over mysterious pain, Because there will be sunshine, no more rain. You can run away from the tears, Through the laughter of loved ones you must hear. You have all the right! And it is how the wounded souls bright. Cycle the storm until you drown, Push the thought of suicide away & and put the knife down. ---------------------------------------------...

Crossing Midland Ferry

Current drifting below me! I see you face to face! Clouds of the north, swirling my psyche to haze, Stars fearing from the stormy rage, Birds fading away from the fuss of grave. A crowd of men and women in casuals, how curious you are to me! I had crossed the ferry of the scratch old, But never felt the agitation with that cold, Seeing the reflection of your sharps that bold, Had my eyes winked to the hazels you hold? Others will board the ferry and cross from coast to coast, Others will see the highland cosmic and little, Others will see the shipping from south to north, But we will enjoy the wayfaring sun sinking. You have waited, you bold beautiful minister, I fathom you - I love you - there is perfection in you, You furnish parts towards eternity, Great or small you furnish your parts towards my serendipity.

Vortex Pen

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