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All knowing mind

By Jonathan Murray-Lacey

That seething squatter that out-went
Out-lent and settled there, and from squatter, settler, homesteader
Grew into my mind as is the flood of thoughts that with
Us grew; the water that slopped and shaped against the beach
And burst and burdens us through an umbilical.

Sweet hyenas sing soft words of woe to me,
Bright laughing sharks caress and woo me
– and I grow in the gruesome being of my confounded notions,
With the seed of thee in the belly of my being.
Oh Joan: Saintly in sackcloth – and star bright
In glamorous armour – unlikely Black Knight of
My mind – saintly in your groin – Young
and Contorted to a vortex sweet coiled in your
Crimp and crinkled ways
That through your labyrinth
In mine turn heavy to a whorl and flourish
Spiral out – up and down, at one, with loud groan
And slow sound in a helix of each moment of mine.

And sweet hyenas sing soft words of woe to me,
Bright laughing sharks caress and woo me
– and I grow in the gruesome being of my confounded notions,
With the seed of thee in the belly of my being.

Dogma, Truth, Right or just In Power: sighs and whimpers
of obsequious obedience to what is –
& – then– bend it to ones will, as wills those slow shadows,
the openings, the gaps and breaches – and chances to outshine,
and flourish – suddenly; you bend me – or breach and we break it all.

And sweet hyenas sing soft words of woe to me,
Bright laughing sharks caress and woo me
– and I grow in the gruesome being of my confounded notions,
With the seed of thee in the belly of my being.

To entertain your slow reflection in the shadows of my mind
And in Victory or Defeat – to blend and burnish the vanquished
In your breast. As such the helix flocks out and my
All knowing mind is – confused –.

And sweet hyenas sing soft words of woe to me,
Bright laughing sharks caress and woo me
– and I grow in the gruesome being of my confounded notions,
With the seed of thee in the belly of my being.

As moody now, garrulous and unkempt you slew the merry
Measurement and lustful you, slew, and slay in leaps as round you go
Sneer at your once oft soft self – and in confusion I, throb out your
Presence in this ancient embryo – this battle worn womb of teaching time
That flakes as it winds upward with a throw of green blood to the walls.
Pitch to this pith of you: smear melts the waxen (walking talking) doll
that comforts me in a wet dream – and globs to soak my memories of you.

For Tiffany

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