Glenn McCrary, 4 lutego 2012
A pocketbook of grins
deprived of rightful glory,
passion, and peace
unionized candles
like smeared lip stick
upon subconscious intellect
layered with finite faces
Glenn McCrary, 7 lutego 2012
A warm front beseeched her
Sweet vocals of glittering jazz
I fell into the intricacies of riddles
Chasing the pavement of cultures
Upon her breath.
Had our tongues even met?
A memory impossible to worship
The echoes of dragon fire
searing at the base
of my tonsils
A sea surfing current of hurt,
yet a pleasurable hurt
an enjoyable suffering
Glenn McCrary, 13 marca 2012
Hybrid eyes
Void of faces to dance with
Lie soundless
As their brothers sweep in
Glenn McCrary, 19 czerwca 2012
From the silent lips
That birthed the nightmare
‘twas heard round the universe
The infamous speech ‘tis dusk
Fabricated insomnia’s silhouette
the hands of time living
In naked draughts of infancy
adorning the skylines
With theatrical chases
Fostering handsome fairings
Glenn McCrary, 18 czerwca 2012
‘Tis often the flesh upon each cheek
is chased dour, yet sultry memories
As the years aged much of nothing
Had haunted these bones
unknown, unsuspected
Hollow screams were published
By the bedsteads of the red holocaust
Clouds laced with fear
Foreseen ‘twas a fiasco
Glenn McCrary, 22 grudnia 2012
The A.M. has happened upon us yet again
Sunlight ascending; spreading poems
Humans walking, working, speaking
In tones that illustrate such elaborate effects
Often considered a form of the art of escapism
Dreamers, thinkers, doers, poets,
Artists, ballerinas, actors, singers,
All masters of escape art
With every venue they inhabit
New shapes are concocted
Each day, each task, is a performance
Although exists not an audience
Seemingly because we escape
Opinions matters not to us
Hell, I just escaped for the moment
Would you like to escape with me too?
Glenn McCrary, 15 lutego 2012
Animus
a truculent épée.
sharp was the sound
of each tear drop
the taste of yesterday
descending;
Glenn McCrary, 11 czerwca 2012
Hazel mirrors glisten
In pages of tribulation
Taciturn apparitions moan
Designing rueful brands of sin
Upon the shaken sands she weaves
As she is forsaken
To drink of harrowing memories
Glenn McCrary, 20 lipca 2012
The florid footprints of hussies
seeped upon the black rug.
The florid heart of a saint crippled at the
fallow door.
The laughter of a sober count guised the howl
Of a callous whore.
count,
Composed a strangely shaped finger,
count your curses, ---
And Death was the raincoat I wore.
Glenn McCrary, 4 lutego 2012
Ivory bushes bear
accelerated evolution
and abstract incarnations
a reverie reserved as veil
fables too blatant to reveal
crescendos rise within
what remains of
the cityscape's heartbeat
science knows what we fear
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