Jul 6, 2014

In The REalm Of Pom

A parasol, a throne, a footprint
studded with fireflies
specks of frayed light
in Afghanistan
he turns pages  and it all comes back

books were nailed to ceilings
concealing life
the wings of a library burning down

the gun was taken off her head
accusations that someone did not know how to pray correctly
as the sword cut the hand's last act
a pomegranate
a pomegranate
a face concealed
yes, accusations that someone did not know how to pray correctly

machine gun
pom pom
machine gun gun
shattered skin of walls
she is dazed
in paths of blood
where Muslims weep

sound fossils
buried cassettes
he tried to remember
moving under
sentences of death
children's limbs scattered
a large stone thrown at his chest

fire fire
fields of poppies
wasted vigil
dangerous guerillas
exile in Peshawar
fire fire
look now
city ablaze

Art and writing by Toni Oswald copyright

perch without pockets

but I wanted
light all around
hybrid dry
similar to reactions
boys will be
the book
was known how
streets off
we'll never get
seen them all
thinking about time
you have never known
our taboo conversation
circuit mode
finally came back from her havana
i cannot speak
the door has closed behind
living fire
air like saved soul
one meter in diameter
dazzle he would not
remark about
the tide of pimps
the vision displayed
i had no dough
all in gauze white
i didn't want to go
by back buzz
world of coupling
rich knot
deck milk
itself voice
undone open
perch without pockets

Art and writing by Toni Oswald copyright

The Diary of Ic Explura Live