Stanzaic Stylings

Sorry to bug you again, you know I’m a PITA, Got some leftovers of light for us, God? It’s Whitsun today  - OK, it doesn’t show, but I can’t blame you Can I, only I sorry need blue blankets, It’s May’s fault, he’s running amok To breed cold lights, coughs, Wild skies, our only option On the outskirts of a light we die for, On the fringes of a light where we snuggle up Nonchalant to heartburn and trinkets  - Know what, God, sometimes our souls Are sort of lawns suburban matrons In slippers and bikinis trample  - See how the smashed cows stumble  - Or maybe it’s warriors in chukka boots Who trample, leave pitch black prints, Oh, and toddlers running riot on trikes, Toys anywhere, alien contraptions all over To bite and bruise, nope, I kid you not  - Green? Maybe a lovely veneer, But lilac and periwinkle went AWOL Or lost in action  - Ancient stones are hissing They spotted them hidden in ladies’ hair, Or so they sigh in a disturbance of colours, McDonald's ba...

Hey, wassup, waiting for some lousy harvests After sowing tears? Afraid not, those merry darlings elves and fairies love, Haven’t got time for her gifts, no time no room, Only the odd smile, a sprinkling of sweet sweet words Then high time for bites when the cheap magenta sky Makes her dizzy - Here come rejections, the wild scene, a creepy set Scattered across mashed limbs and western souls - Why are the meadows your voice Loved to haunt so silent? Didn’t you know? It’s the latest fad, all the rage this silence Haunting huts, condos, mansions, semis, oh, and who built them, Unredeemed  hands perhaps? Sorry, can’t remember - No voices, great, nothing but her eyes Deeply set on creepy deals, no probs, trust me, Dancers or smiling parties alfresco don’t give a damn For  questions or shattering eyes, they’ll play dumb if you hand around Pats or yellow chrome – deal? No, I won’t cool down, I saw it all, I saw her gasping the name of God, I saw craven souls fretting over the sudden ...