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Slide show XI by irvon, literature
Literature
Slide show XI
Slide show XI
down in the basement
Her ribbon fell a river
from her shoulders to the squares.
You held her, hold her,
fingers tied, laces tied, tongue-tied like a toad,
but dressed in fancy clothes.
She and you recall the habanera is a dance
for Cubans and for fools.
The basement's chequered floor
in Fischer black and white, checkmate
and stale, the stains of old,
the gale of gold and more -
is what you heard.
A skeleton goes bent above his keys
that like the floorboards give away
and sound of blues back in the day, hey!
That's what you say.
And so
her ribbon fell a river
from her shoulders to the squares.
Nice suit, she
S.S. Fantasia by irvon, literature
Literature
S.S. Fantasia
Sonnet
You and I are on a ship together
surrounded by a rimless sea of days;
the surface calm is dyed the deepest heather
before it drowns the setting sun's last rays.
The stars appear full bright, unblocked by stratus,
they bid us navigate to safer bays,
but since the heart's our only apparatus
we will forever sail these waterways.
Such fantasies persist within my mind:
in fact, that salty sea's not ours to taste.
The only pleasure we may therein find
is hasty skinny-dipping to the waist.
I dream that you and I are on a ship,
its sails catch time, their sheets in our firm grip.
Optimus Prime by irvon, literature
Literature
Optimus Prime
I am a transformer, eject my titanium plating:
the circuitry's naked, my weapons not working
and vulnerability shows.
Corrosion confronting my functions
until I'm reduced to a statue,
a statue of steel that is stainless
and painful.
Scars were etched and stars were hatched,
but time and wind have worn them down.
A petrified pyre remaining
of me and my intricate systems -
the merciful factory fibres
extend to me luminous endings
and then it is not all that bad;
let it take me apart.
I am always a part,
but nothing is anything special.
Scars are sworn and stars are torn,
predictions' wail will wind up high.
I am a transformer
Initiation by irvon, literature
Literature
Initiation
Shining
crown's
not set,
but flows.
Ingrained in him,
the unpredictions:
"Thy wisdom come
of fiction, truth."
Before her stretch the ponds
that lesser men call oceans.
There is no understanding
across the rift of thought.
-
I am a tetrahedron, ribs
of mercy spawned uphold the laws
and house the frailty of a promise,
lucid like a glowing eye.
Severity then strips my hull of bone
and drops her froth into my open skull
until I'm not transparent anymore,
put through this make-opaque-experiment.
Who did the waking by irvon, literature
Literature
Who did the waking
The city soundscape forms a purple lake
that punches on our eardrums with precision.
The slamming doors, the wind, the odd collision
of conversations; all of them partake.
It's like listening to symphonies,
not long before we fall into our slumbers,
when voices can't be counted using numbers
and rhythm disappears in syncope.
You can't stop touching things, so one by one
that you destroy their connectivity.
They turn to solid gold and come undone.
You know of no impartiality.
The scientist you are, you think it's fun
to give us individuality.
Toast by irvon, literature
Literature
Toast
Straight up, my friend:
that's the only way to drink a poem.
I raise my glass,
I know the drink, I know the game.
I don't want
your fancy blends,
mingled scents
a wine that doesn't know how to touch my mouth!
I raise my glass
and when I drink I understand.
My poison knows its purpose
and if you offer me your cup,
yours had better know it, too,
'cause I don't want to die confused,
amused, abused?
I choose
another death:
straight up, my friend,
straight up.