EXCAPE
A paradise drive thru,
a hasty relationship
with average accepted
stumbling, for the sake
of a desperate escape
she became
the sorry nominee that
lost her fragile parasol
inside the folding wave.
But anon anon this
servant’s armour refused
the gnawing rhythm when
inside the corrupted divine
she heard the critical comedy
in commonsense come lately.
Picture that purposeful power.
A release resolutely tiptoeing
behind that clouded curtain to
find a fortune’s freedom unrehearsed.
The welcome departure relieving
yet another unbelieving artificial
sacrificial anniversary and sometimes,
yes, just sometimes sweetheart,
the grass really is greener.
ACCURSÉD
If nothing is sacred
then I’m going to lie here
and do absolutely nothing
while you mow the lawn
like some kind of no good
god damned heretic.
RESURRECTION MAN
I’ve forgotten how many times I’ve pleaded for amnesia,
how many oftens the accumulated weight of my stuff has
pushed against the closet door until its bursting forth
in a clumsy rush of breathtaking flame juggling memories,
all lights flashing, siren songs blaring, that call for me
to slide back into the tailgating peak hour slipstream
from my here (crucified upon the mast of my nowadays)
where I reach with the fingers of my left (behind) hand
tongued by the licking flames of bright burning bridges,
while I reach out with my (maybe everything will be
all) right hand almosting the future that I can hear
mutinous in the dark, but just a fingernail beyond
like trying to track the wing licks of a fugitive something
through a sky without footprints for the favoured fruit
hanging tall from the boughs of the Infinity Tree.
And sometimes, really, I would rather not,
but oh, how I grow when I hope.
Lindsay McLeod trips over the horizon every morning. His poetry has recently found homes in FIREFLY, THE FAT DAMSEL, BURNINGWORD, FIVE2ONE, MAD SWIRL, SICK LIT, LEAVES OF INK, ODDBALL, WORDS DANCE, QUAIL BELL, DRUNK MONKEYS, CORVUS, FOLIATE OAK, BIRD’S THUMB, FINE FLU, DASH, LITERARY NEST and AMARYLLIS. He currently writes on the sandy Southern edge of the world, where he watches the sea and the sky wrestle for supremacy at his letterbox. He prefers to support the underdog. It is presently an each way bet.
