The House that Sardoz Built
Something's writhing, and
pestering inside
the house that Sardoz built...
It's a strange sort of thing,
because these were the
very same walls
that were slated for
demolition.
Everyone was all so self-
assured that it would
surely fall to ruin...
All mouldered and mildewed
by the passing of time,
as each new abominable fad
threw countless wrenches
in the existence of it's frame...
The little girl that owed
her lifeblood
to the house's foundation,
had long ago grown old,
and frail
no longer laying claim
to the insistence of it's
true form...
Tonight her children sleep
without a gelatinous mass
transforming and leading
back to the source...
The poor bastards
were born blind and never dared
to see past their own noses,
all questions sawwed off at the knee-caps
without a single moment of
recompense...
I feel a time lapse,
but I'm not sure which
has changed
beyond the tilted picture frame,
and the glass of OJ,
it's all remained painfully intact.
Something's writhing, and
pestering inside
the walls that Sardoz built...
It's a strange sort of thing,
because these were the
very same walls
that were slated for
demolition.
©
8/10/20
Bunny Villaire
The Day After The One Preceding
High-rise tombs signal
last rites,
with sacred sites
far gone.
I walk this world
of the Trampled Heart...
The streetlights fall like stars
upon my pale
blueprint
of scar tissue.
To kick inside each
shrine to life
that Mother Nature
has divined...
My flesh conveyance
led me here.
Must have been shook
from a silent inbound charge!...
...as now I'm naked,
on this dock,
while cars screech past,
and interlace...
The cold, grey faces
of each box
stare straight ahead
as if they've fixed
to some illusion
so remote...
...I doubt they know
of the Centaurs' height...
The summit of His
fuzzy scalp,
or even where His true form
dwells...
Is He of Heaven, or
of...well?...
...And, what are we in this
turmoil?...
This eyesore that springs
from black sand?...
High-rise tombs signal
last rites,
with sacred sites
far gone.
I walk this world
of the Trampled Heart...
The streetlights fall like stars
upon my pale
blueprint
of scar tissue.
It is now time to pick it up,
and heave ho...
This is my quest, and
vital right
to outline villians
housed in men,
and find my way
to blessed clearings
which stars ignite, and so
do kin
who unlock charms, and
lay all bare
for Mother Moon
to lastly witness...
Lost babes of glory
drenched
beneath tall branches
who hold their tales close,
until their drawn out
by the stillness
of the night.
©
8/1/20
Bunny Villaire
socialise
’How are you?’ and ’How do you do?’
Don’t answer honestly!
That’s not how it’s done!
No one cares about your business!
Not about your wellbeing!
Not about your emotions!
Child, child, child;
You’re doing it all wrong
Sing the same song!
I’m fine and you?
A scripted conversation,
Not an expression of elation!
Socializing has rules you see!
Learn your lines!
Don’t set off its landmines!
Flawed Connection
Hollows sounds of footprints
inflicted wounds without repair
locked eyes of insanity
permeated fumes of anger
layered hills of decay
dark souls’ evening shadows
disconnected blood rivers
alienated and forgotten
muscular barriers to love
deadly words consuming
torn white garments
of wretched futility
untapped laughter
trapped in bottle
feeding failure
weighty millstone
suspended from neck
besieged mind
unfilled hunger
light shines
on road ahead
I must leave
chance to breathe.
Social media
A place where number of likes judge you
And not by the actual no. Of people who like you
You have 10,000 Facebook friends
But in reality you know that after 5 the list ends..
They say that you need Oxygen to breathe
But only after 590 followers do you breathe a sigh of relief
On Social Media you are Miss Popular
But in your heart you know you are Miss Loner
You tag your friends on your pictures
But none tagged along when you were in the hospital, applying some tincture
Oh the irony of Social Media , Oh the Contradictions..
Oh the big fat lies ...Oh this fake world of Fiction!