J. Barrett

Monday, June 26, 2006

Concrete angel

In the concrete shimmer of the bloated night I come to you,
reeking of the miasma of garlic and fear,
ready for the smothering comfort of your touch.

I approach my instrument with
the mad passion of the young
for metaphor
and fall headlong against the tangled pain of the original.

I investigate metal for the drunk water angel,
and demand the restless rhythm of the night.

The fiery grace which stops my heart
would smear the surreal pastiche of life
Almost mounting the seceret wish for surrender.

In the concrete shimmer I imagine a balance
while you scream
and demand the restless rhythm of the night.

Whose passion will you see, scaling the barren
fortress of your silhouette?

I suffer rigid music in the glorious waste,
the concrete angel conscripts my soul.
I suffer awful electric sex
as the shard turns deeper

The rage in steel leaves me hollow
and demands the restless rhythm of the night.


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