Last Edited Allegory Poems (62)

My intellect detects...
The things that I select...

I inspect what I inject...
To protect what I project...

I correct what can't connect...
And reflect what can deflect...

I reject all your respect...
I dissect what you protect...

Emotional detector, the supreme protector...
Dissector selector...
Deflector respector...

Corrector connector...
Protector projector...
Injector inspector...
Expect hurt...

A perfect reflector with a painful rejector...
You are the ultimate emotional detector....

I walked down the passage, a sullen route,
On me like a load heavy silence weighed.
I moved and as strangers with hostile look
Statues were gazing from grim recess.

In gloomy sleep things were deadly stiff,
A gray semidarkness was eerie and quaint,
And same as the sound of pendulum big
Resounded in passage my hollow steps.

And there in the dark of abysmal space
My fiery eye viewed in mortal fright
A shape unobtrusive in deeper shade
Of crowded pillars rising so high.

Having approached a chilling fear
Grabbed me as beast and caught my breath:
I noticed in horror a head of hyena,
On maiden’s slim shoulders did it rest.

Its pointed snout was stained with blood
And eyes were glowing with hollow light,
And creepy whisper kept hoarse and vile:
“You came by yourself, so now you're mine!”

Those fearful moments swept by so fast,
And the half-light fell like a misty cloud,
And the pallid horror grew, doubled in size
Reflected in mirrors of charnel house.

Nights of mysteries and feelings,
Nights of dreams and plays, and vice,
Nights of musings and misgivings,
Nights of skies overcast with stars.
Nights of colds and chills, and quivers,
Nights of pleasure, grace and love,
Nights of treasures beyond measure
Of the verse made one by one.
Nights of darkness, pierced with candles,
Flames that flicker in the night.
Nights of sadness, thoughts of people
Friends and lovers that have died.
Nights we pass in tranquil leisure,
Nights we pass in raging lust,
Nights that give us heavenly pleasure,
Nights that last in toil and fast.

Night, my friend, please hearken to wish,
Just give me peace of mind and sound sleep.

Hearts? yes
be they a bell
still dimly
all a chime

though faint and pure
it sleeps a'rest
neath the fraying
canvass of time

yet
what is
comfort friend?
what is rest

and what balances
the ledger
of your heart
when all her mores are less?

subtle guile
commutes
to inferior shores
tís true..

and how can a man
love his girl
when every
heart is blue?

the only place
a fearsome heart
will only
ever hide

let me sleep
in the valley
beyond the reach
of every horse and guide

like a yatch
out in the ocean
on a glorious day
you can sail as slow or
as fast as you want
in anyway the wind blows
so don't forget
to take the time
to have a splash,
dive, jump and
just enjoy
the ride
while it lasts!

Park was the head officer on the border crossing between North and South Korea. He had a problem.

Two weeks ago a woman, let's call her lin, pitched up at the crossing gate with a jute bag of soil attached to the front panniers of her well maintained Honda 50 motorcycle.

The inevitable menagerie of sniffer dogs, hard bitten counter intelligence staff and regular army, checked her story.

Her papers checked out, she had permission to cross.

The soil was.. well.. just that.. soil. No contraband.. no diamonds.. nada.. zip.

Odd? Yes. But illegal? No.


Lin altered her days, but usually twice a week, she made the same journey:

Same bike
Same colour
Same bag of soil
Same papers
Same checkpoint
Same result.

It pissed the men off. Lin was beautiful and smart, and it seemed she had someone on high who was protecting her. The word from Park's superiors was simple:

"Unless you find something illegal, let her pass"

I guess it was tough (the first year) for Park. He was a proud man. A nagging doubt festered in his subconscious..

"What is she up to?"


Then, somewhere north of year three it stopped. No more Lin. No more bags of Earth.

No more reports by Park about the square root of nothing.

Park retired. Life moved on. Except.. not quite.

He tracked her down.
He confronted her.
He explained his retirement.
He wouldn't prosecute.
He just wanted to know.

"What was in the Bag!"

"Soil" said Lin.

"But.. what were you smuggling?" said Park.

Lin took a long look at the frazzled military man... and spoke a single word..

"motorcycles".

she looks at me

dark hair runs down the corridor of her shoulder, still warm from the last shot of whiskey, her words stop me cold:

"You know big fella.. when your belly is full and your lust is emptied, when malt dances in and out of that coastline you call a brain.. you can pull down your awnings.. but it won't change the stock in the store.."

I was married once, but like the frontiers men of old, I failed to find any tracks in the female heart.. a might too wild for settled living, and a might crazy for thinking same, left me a man of casual arrangement with the fairer sex, and that suited both parties just fine.

I'm telling you the water is wet, because that's just the way it is. What you do with such information, I don't rightly care. I'm setting the road for my own horse.

The trail is hard, brutal. It sculpts rigor on you. You learn fast or die. Sometimes, folk learn fast AND die. I never claimed life was fair.. "fair" is a made up word, designed to take the edges off.. just as you need an edge.. to make it past something.

I caught a glimpse once of what God might have seen as I crested a hill.. and watched below a mass of wagon and beast, weave a dark score on the trail.

regular wages, to me.. was a mortgage I could never accept..

you did a job.. you saw it through to the end.. you got a lump sum.. and you moved on..

food tasted better, the colours changed, women wore new smiles.. and memory slept in the last place.

I hobble tie the horse and make a fire..

A coyote fights the moon.. he seems to know a horrible truth that none of us has figured out yet

I think of all the great women I've known.. the ones that furnish my memories..

the kiss from an unexpected beauty that soars over all that offered you everything..

I dream. Not always bad. Sometimes I smile an unconscious smile..

I dream..
that in all this death
in all this darkness
in all this hardship..

there's a flower growing in a place no earthly flower should grow..

and when I get to it, it will smell like her kiss tasted..

I was never
taught
how music's
sold and bought

all I know
is every girl
I ever knew
had lyrics.. but never you

girl you are
a celtic air
a blend of strings
when no-one's there

no need for lines
nor lyrics wrote
a warmth beyond
a thing you'd quote

I see the words
of girls I knew
fade amongst
the morning dew

I hear your strings
at evening's fade
your head sleeps on
my shoulder blade

Memories of what was meant to be,
Would not have been,
Had it not become,
The way it became.


Memories of what is to be,
Would not become,
Had not it been,
The way it should be.

to the day the darkness
brings an end
I am the last Irish wolf
the darkness is my friend

they killed me
and they skinned me
as the virgin
snows a'fell

but the tavern's cheers
are qualified
they know
I wait in hell

I am the peerless hunter
as constant as the tide
"Mactyre" they call me
outcast son of the countryside

my eye contains a private death
my claw imprisons hope
I'm the thread of fear a'runneth
through the cord of every rope

I am alpha to the moonlit oaks
to the mountains and the rain
I am balm to all the natural laws
and thus I will remain

to stalk the stars
to kill the clouds
to forage in the lands
to sleep in the belly of time

untouched by human hands