Bone-PolisherIt lies before you juicy and gigantic
The contours they render you frantic
The sleek pipes and rough stone
Just tender flesh and bone
Awaiting your ravenous panic
You can smell them rigid and shivering
Your blades they hum with the quivering
Spinning wheels and grinding brakes
A giddy hunger you must slake
And reduce these ramparts to kindling
Sublime you glide through the carcass immobile
Resistance to this crazed menace is futile
These tools of your will
With wild sparks they spill
Out lamentations from their frames so fragile
Looking back on the ruins you canvas
Licking your lips - still slightly famished
Mad marks and smoking skids
Gazed at with wonder by the kids
A sooty signature of your fanciful nimbus
In the AfternoonAs the sun hangs heavy burning on high,
Irradiating its beams in the sky,
There is one that casts inward a blind eye
And withdraws beneath cool secluded sheets.
While creatures forage with hectic temper,
The traffic encircles with pitched fever.
A soul solitary slumbering stirs
In repose having discarded his clothes.
As the clockwork unwinds noisily down
The business mandatory of the town,
The weary undisturbed breathes not a sound.
Wordless are the dreams darkening distress.