Junkyard Sacrifice

 

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well I would talk forward
in candle phone motion
on the arm a hit to lift off
till we make the star spangled banner in the sky positioned to face

the padded floor of consistency moving and changing at a height only you could predict
no one will ever know

amazed by the sight
shamed by the lack
of tangible potential area
I want to feel…
a funtime waiting
from the source of the shield… the source of real mankind
the route of chance
a destination
we don’t look back
once the needle plays
all the points A to Z
(the comedown back to alpha)

television
wireless
all our material possessions:
a ride
that’s all it is…
just a ride
to the apple of the universal broken heart…

through the mirror we’ll see and find ways to mend

with what’s left…
with haste…

with passion…
combined thought control…
sealing the wings to complete
the spiritual circulation to the next level eyes forming from the back of the head now connecting to the constellations we’re all a part…
purer…
the strait of unity constructed
from the backbone rubble of the past…

and how it shines

blinding the moons all turning
so surreptitiously their duty

then morning another ball

to do the job
its oyster
of many years
in between…
and a mere crumb of these years are yours and mine

 

 

By Nicholas Peart

Taken from the poetry collection In Arctic Measure (poems 2004-7)

©All Rights Reserved

 

 

Image from the short film Breakdown (2014) by Nicholas Peart

Lifting Me Higher

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Lifting me higher
as low grade red mines
over-sprout green, thick and moist
a one way ticket from madness
although no certain destination
I feel calm
zero/numb

I don’t overstretch my luck in abundance
I have no heavy and overly lofty desires
to be a universal, ubiquitous never satisfied sun king
too much; turbo balls smashing
only my anonymity is king

Life on a snake-oiled tightrope line
Devils square rooting on blind fast loop
So far my classic neurones keep the elusive glass
white and bright
even at my lowest ebb
when all I see is dust and empty boxes

Yet the moon is always there
So is my imagination
Dogs keep barking
as the cricket symphonies pump and power the stars
and matter I’ll never know

 

By Nicholas Peart

Originally written on 15th February 2015

(All rights reserved)