Consecration of the House

Posted by Erik Moshe on Sunday, July 17, 2011 Under: Rhymed Verses

The Strausses scout alone, in a courtyard of scalded stone
And calloused chrome, a devout commode in consecration of our house & home
Strange theories of lily pad equations counting toads -
Or water molecules in mountain snow
High strung on Marlow Talbot’s own embargo fashioned load
Airship mosques and palace drones all en guard to battle zones
The burglar’s voice a hollow baritone - call it the fall of Navarone
Porches of Victorian estates enamored with the dusty moss of Alamo
Nicorette patches to the gaseous badlands if the smog of Auschwitz floats
The chambers spouting ashen smoke.
I crawl in haggard robes with a sculptor’s pick to carve a mast of flaxen bone
It takes a grain of understanding to know, the burning bush can be a mass of oats
I bid good evening to the citizens of Catacomb
Pride's been ushered since it’s key this idle conjuncture succeeds
Underneath the kitchen pantry lies a hive of bunkers besieged
In the rubble it breathes.
There were pumpkin patches in the backyard before it became a grave
Where ghosts of misshapen slaves whispered old sayings of a sage from Prague
Star dopplers watch the sand sift through John Coltrane’s sieve
As the outstretched fingers of souls trace the trails the cocaine leaves
On the cocaine leaves - my wonder of the world is wonder
Human nature enacted.
Which makes me wonder: what if Galileo was the mayor of Athens?
Grandfather gripped the wooden hilt of the spade by the timber creek
Notes from the underground - a series of memoirs 6 feet deep

In : Rhymed Verses 

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