dale-costello-poetry67

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my new poem.. birds and caribou 

[dale-costello-poetry67]

[dale-costello-poetry67]

edge of a corner

There was a night, breaking its edges into this, the waves crashing deep and heavy, time existing in that machine, where all things dream at once, this is the human mind, you are that memory, we are this moment, of a thought intervened, by the river where its deep, unconscious speaks a later tongue, its sense of oblivion acute, so easily this is cast aside, I am not trying to get home, I am not lost, I am calling to you, asking you to return, will you please ?

Where are thoughts born, the mental vocalisations of emotions, responses, instincts, training, wonder, feelings, truth, wonder memories,

glimpse the weed, describe the infinite garden,

[dale-costello-poetry67]

Sphere

Arena  virtuosity in all its reckoning  plundering talent with skill  demons moan, angels sing  pugilist stands  body sagging with the effort  head defiant  crowd hushed  his opponent crushed  left lying unconscious  carried from the ring,  victory  less fleeting in sport  than in life  champions  immortalised by worship  blood and bloodless  gauntlet of bells  rising again and again  celluloid ghost feels no pain,  brain tissue  sweet sweat drying  a careful blow  a lifetime in the dying  to never lose  leaving undefeated  only that moments battle  where all victories disappear  become mere subjects  of the sphere.

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almost fall down

almost fall down

I know that I'm not

supposed to say

all the things i wish i could 

how a thought will trap me  ask me of every emotion  describe the transference  transcribe the description  put on a cup of coffee  smoke em if they're handy  ask me again what it means I'll say something different  I'll survey the room  promise to promote a clown  take a sabbatical  almost fall down  say something classical promptly forget what i said  say it to no one  but you always remember  make me write it down  and then i ask you again  who's hosting who? and you smile  like memories have never had to cry.

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the palms of my hands

an exultant cry with its pleasing forms was in no wise their true condition

a habit of careful thought, a pen of fire across the gulf

spring in its unerring providence

the scapegoat unenlightened by a perilous journey

and all the safe-conduct built by Moses

to see his guilt wide open in the advancement of every degree

a single point that the mountain continues to thirst for

_______ art by julietwitchell

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and finally, poetry

the tone of your voice

cuts like a thousand knives

delivers me to kitchens long closed

meals served 

with all the clatter

that cutlery can make of silence

a look like hatred

pierces 

my eyes

in a way

the meal never met my stomach.

[dale-costello-poetry67]

Flipped side

they waste me

their voices scream drowning in ocean and wave

strong jaws grab at the sunlight

innocence is the uncooked meat

harmony bathes in bloody feast

chords snap in delight

reptiles carved of age

a last glimpse 

of antler

a gaping breath

as it sinks.

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night falling

i am comfortable with her.

Love.

her secrets are mine.

her prisons are my empty pockets.

her passions are the oceans

boiling over of flames,

she whispers,

i listen,

i am safe in the silence,

she is both story and real,

i can keep, leave or steal away,

her beauty,

her touch,

oxygen

she fills me,

she leaves,

chemicals of breath,

their languages spoken in my blood,

the maps of our journey,

flowers blossoming of path,

love

becoming in the fall.

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i want to get better at backgrounds

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tumblr

scrutinising the lock 

with long dead eyes 

i know all has become 

as she said 

the careful nothing 

full of beauty n loves surprise.

[dale-costello-poetry67]

photography by ellen jantzen 

via

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luckily melancholy

the boundaries are defined by experience

that reside within, probably a joke

and such a young, pretty face

now ugly, and clad with purple tears

would you only accept him forever, again?

luckily melancholy is the new song of your soul

while it’s always stuck on replay, you cry

lost your way, though coincidentally

the circle grows smaller and then

strangling at the waist, each normal day

take more petty lies with that

and teach them how to exist within your border

[dale-costello-poetry67]

strangers as it seems

strangers the balance of existence a mass of thoughts drape the pear shaped hurt deep inside the dream her voice in shining song stories making light of sunset I stopped looking in a place he never did in a future he’d imagine that boy existing forever a man he did not know looking down the line wondering at the depths of things how much will a child reside thirty six years from Elvis going undercover a boy still believing his heart dreaming through the grieving stories unfolding into life life revealing its avenues of love a spirit in its breathing my Earth in me a single drop of her love floating careless in my conscience laws spoken so elegantly emotion being carved in front of me the lectures of response dodging bullets askew and always ready to combat real and mistaken to be this thought in emotion breaking that endless confrontation slavery as its slung through convict, soldier, trauma through pure genetic disease the fines lines of apostrophe caressing a question real the love of her magic feel peace dream of it believe we are that strong we are that smart we are not hooligans we are creation we are thought born to peace we are the Earth in our first thoughts. we are in time to hear our souls loves beauty is beyond belief