Wednesday, September 22nd, 2010...6:10 pm

scott moore | plus 3

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IN FLUX

A long slow roll, the clouds
Rain on colors first change
The dark blankets the rays of light
More each day pass
A shower without soap
Your sheen left unclean

The brain slows to watch nature crawl
Unaware of the arriving guests
The worms at harvest, eyes trance
The window by the door, the gateway
Has now become a chore

Shoes that glue and stick
Help feet find fear in movement
The cigarette burns forgotten
Another season, invitations
Not yet sent
To a dance with unknown consequence

Cool and crisp, blood thickens
The receptors in flux
The music is wind, eyes are rain
Falling leaves cloak the chill
Avenging beasts lay waiting

In faded sun
Try to rub the gray from your skin
The conductor, fate with other plans
The headless train signals
Solitary calls to pathways
Not yet railed

The bed becomes the coffin
Blood and sheets and pens
With thoughts not left alone

The triggers scratch and claw for entry
Through doors on battered hinges
A dam for the damned

Handless fingers plug the surge
A full moons pull crests the waves
Slow and steady echo’s call to quicker beats
To know no control, it wakes
Wild calls for its place
Among the thieves
Autumns dance returns

VORTEX PIPE LINE

We sat in silence watching TV.
My borrowed bed within 3 feet
My soul relinquished
The old man, his arms folded
A book to me, a page turned over
The demons rippling the surface of his lips
His secrets churning, twisting his insides
Fighting to hold ground from the insanity
He’d witnessed in sacrifice

The Olympic flame put to rest the torch moved on
A stadium in trance, primordial at core
Applegate returned for pennies not yet spent
On robes and sneakers, the heads already sponged
In spaceship prayer
Watching my shadow be bought and sold
By blood, for blood

The pack sent out to hunt, to dismember, to return
All fair game, all in play, bar none
The richest men not seen, not heard
Trampling horses on polo grounds
Their riders swatting the rolling heads, all slaves to it

Crosby’s a sniper, stay closer, the words still echo
Booty for a younger man, sentence yet to be determined
The darkest robe across the greyest mist
Beck n call, the Order kneels

Buried deep in the alpine slopes,
The desert sands, the rivers and seas
Released only through dream
There is no emotion, no extinction to pray for
Only guard

The senate, the two headed beast
The wicked, the weak, the pious, the hungry
Even the richest men unseen are flush
All flow through to it’s alter, to its vortex, to be defined
It… the unknown

WHITE CLOUD

A darker side of life slices through a half mile block
Bull’s eyes fill their pockets with rock
In the den she waits, White Cloud, I’m spectacle
Albino and obese overtly eager to please
One step from tracheotomy
A bypass scar to mark her battles
Her haunt

The hunt…juniors on the run again
Side winding, jut stepping a path of silence
In the front, out the back, check your sights, watch your ass
Blue lights a major sweat, deportation always in question

White Cloud waits…unable to hedge her bets
She stairs at the crack between the door and floor
Glued for sounds penetrating her paranoia
Even the pipe can’t steal her eyes away

The bags arrive, always three when you need six
Repeat the cycle, chase failure
Vicious games of denial, buy nine

One more claw on
An endless road littered with industrial toxins
To burn our fingers and celebrate pain
Hands raised to c class works

The chores dead, tinfoil’s up
A jagged pipe with overtime hours
Held high for a slow and steady draw

Superglue for the mind,
That powerful white exhale
The torch, the flame, that edge
The jack that calls you back
The silent sad eyes pleading to each color

Another ring, another run
To a phone that carries weight
Seeking truth and postage to nowhere

Circle round the block, check the rearview
Who’s pissin on who?
All the while
Under cover carnivores wait

The rules, no standin still, no serious chillin
Hoodies, hats and five mile an hour rolls out!
No second guessing the moves
Failure bit when thought found fruition

Three bags more, the lighters aglow
White Cloud
She’s on the door again
Cookin n lookin
While teeth are lost in the shag
Dignity digs the hole

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