TEMPERANCE

       

Blow my trumpet

Thy cradle has seen fit

to clasp reticent finger

around air of simplest minds

{–} inside the confines

of

bought tranquillity

 

Nights’ tendrils

and maiden’s symphonic lullaby

gave breath the quiet meaning

she so ardently sought

to transpose

And inversely compose

by the white mirror

of his lucid comprehension

(a sombre expanse:)

 

No provision affixes

to the glares made by unfair dismissal

of ominous hearts,

where prosperity

was the only blatant cause of concern

 

hushed alcove

is tugging

at a baleful continent

Imperial charm, [the aura

 

of a bleached sunset]

 

billowing winds

and effusive tribulation;

our troubles propped easily

upon elbows that caress

Hope

with cartoon momentum

 

like uninterrupted flames…

 

Lewd demand is perched haggardly

upon fingers of gnarled courtesy

bulk—

is constructed

with sprawling satisfaction.

 

~ ~

CORNERED HUMOUR

      

Did you notice

the lights

were home,

but the grown-ups

were out ? ?

 

Threading objectives

through the eye

of an

antiquated keyhole…

 

have they unfinished business?

or are they just suited

to the soundtrack

of their self-neglect?

 

meanwhile, meticulous envy

is propped against

the broom cupboard

Waiting for

opportunities to build

a makeshift teepee,

[unimpeachably] off-limits

 

and secured

in unequivocal hectares

 

Seriously—

was it just an accident?

Or did they really mean

to be so faithfully horrid,

The torrent

of five-star demand

being so-so overwhelming

 

champagne barricades

For those gaping feelings

we found unfashionable

 

Protection is safe—

but not always biodegradable.

 

~ ~

SOFTENED SKETCH

      

Scenes in the darkened

foreground, like so:

 

Sooty visitors leaning over

the lovers’ Balcony,

contesting an extraordinary deck

that extends for miles

and miles, reducing to

kilometric centimetres

Am I confusing your function?

 

raise the quotient

to superscript,

I’m the power of four—

even with one crucial component

missing

clip-on thumb [flanking]

broken index finger,

subtract the common-jointed wrist

 

Obligations find my skinny pencil

immortalised in

gargantuan manifestations,

stocked up on luxurious carat

 

They won’t find me

canvassing for

the insoluble mathematician,

I’ve finished the pictures in

my three-tiered application

 

Call now the gofer—get him to

wrangle more staples

from the centrefold

 

Bona fide furnishings stand out,

because they sat me behind barbed-wire

until I could articulate

proper drawing;

 

[no fixtures]

no pastel

Just bold exploits.