Jade of Night

I only speak with family in dreams
where eyes are flat and voices low.
No longer trees go by in seconds flight,
life is hesitant where tombstones grow.

©Steven Francis poems 2013

Footwork

We live
we play energetic crab lined beats
and tip our shadows to the puddles;
we drive and cook
we love,
think ourselves brave at music strokes
and we die.
There is no more to it,
no more thought or philosophies
we kiss we walk
we stroke the cat and die...

© Steven Francis poems 2012

Brat News and the Abrasion of Life

Mad to bored inside peeling walls of four,
emotions which have me cornered
switch from knuckles to sky,
jabbing ripe solitude into this dusty, drunk again throat.
Terrestrial fields beyond sickle eyed vessels
amplify the bratty news which is less than mulch to me,
with its undercurrent sneering
on a born again electric never ending sheet.

Whistle boy and hide thy blessings
for in toy cities sincerity is seldom heard
and all there is are echoes from tourist hearts
who could never die for you.
Beast child and lizard-like
the first and last of blood
seeping from pendulum flowers...

© Steven Francis poems 2012