InCahootsLiterature

the world unseen by eyes is the source where our world is patterned and derived. The spirit, speaking, swirled Love-born light held its breath And matter was revealed. thus from the cosmic creche the star's precursor seeped; hydrogen spanned the depths. Forth from the depths there leaped Out of a leafing dark Compaction that long slept. gravity fusion sparked, lighting the fledgling suns; the path to life embarked. Now, beasts, fresh-sprung buds, men, feathers, fins Each day tumble new from dawn's gold hands.

I’ve spent far too much time feeling small compared to you, weaving a nest of uncertainty, nursing doubt in my chest like a small bird. far too recently, I realised that I’d been dealing in absolutes, and the universe does not lend itself to those. to a true titan a giant is a pygmy; scale, not size, matters.

Love, a word of pomp & piety. Betrayal of the worst kind. Chasing the films, projected into the sky, missing sign(s). Instant, mobile & unread text messages, sign a smiley. But he doesn't, now or then. Lighting up in the dark in hope, her world turns from purples to reds to blues-- she can't be mad at him, but how couldn't she? Affection she craves is a gift best given often and repeatedly; somehow she knows he means well, but assuming isn't always enough. Waltzing matilda- a phrase of unstrapped freedom. Decide- is of sweet sorrow. Lust- a moment's time borrowed. Impulses- one's lack of right to lead them(selves). But choices are

Oh, the trees were lovely, and the wind was singing a lullaby tune as cherry blossoms blew gently in the breeze, little puppies were gamboling in the spring kissed grass; while some ducks were practicing cannibalism, building castles out of wee little bird bones and worshiping Satan. These cruel ducks, these overlords built an empire from war out of blood, malice and fear, and ruled absolute over their lower mammalian slaves. Duck kind was cruel and evil, but there was one, a bit odd of sorts. He didn’t like blood, he didn’t like war. “Stop it, stop it now,” he pleaded, for his morals were better placed. The

On a Saturday I circumvent melancholy with melancholy. You are at a friend's contemplating hops and barley. I smoke my final cigarettes. You have requested a switch for my new year: e-cigarettes or whatever you call them, health benefits. I have been testing them, the freedom of smoking indoors, wailing myself giddy at the notion of it: puffing like a dragon, sitting regal as a fat caterpillar. Well, final smokes are a goodbye; we'll substitute this kind for the other.

I solipsize over your bent body, the trails of glitter between your breasts, the sharp stunning whip of ankle, thigh, in the moment that the elliptic shudders converge you, shift your sigh into an exhale you won't return from. I long to keep you like a bruise to contain your eternity, preserve you in the memory of your breath, but you are vicious and lurid in this darkness; you crackle and blaze and will not be subdued. the straight columns of your legs, the graceful arches of your ribs, the slight strong architecture of your frame will be enveloped in your greedy fire, your feet glancing and blue as the bottom of a flame.

whiskers a-quiver, a waistcoat and pocket watch; my, how time flies... A weeping willow stretches in the breeze; rabbit screams break the silence. the tardy's swan song, unintended siren's song; hark! the rabbit hole! Cheshire cat preens, whiskers bloody; on a lake, swans snuggle sunset. knaves in a panic, shuffling in the garden; repainting roses. A soft lullaby through thick smoke; caterpillar on a tall toadstool. waking up at tea time, feeling out of sorts.