.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

and to think i saw it on floyd terrace

Tim Martin's Sonnet Project

Monday, November 28, 2011

Your Ride is Here

here is a list of facts i have told
you & was completely wrong
the sky is made of empty gestures
that dance with a kind of duende
and make the shadow of joy on the ground
we meet in places we cannot be found
with public service messages pinned to my sleeve
they appropriate the names of bands that
play the tourist in a garden of french accents
in my five year plans there are no years after
my confidence calls for a vote
and  is a decisive voice that repeats in my ear
it is philadelphia in the autumn
and the sky is made of falling objects

Saturday, November 12, 2011

War Cry

babe, you have to let the pizza cool
when naming names just to be bellicose
despite the brides of dispossessed peddlers
who trades their trades in rough instances
in vain hope to invent the circuitry of the stars
that is present in circles somewhere in roshambo
you follow the guitar and expect rock
and the ticket is yours so there are no choices
any fool knows this human experience
but i am hostage to circus bears in vienna
and know nothing of the language here
dear marionettes, we cannot articulate
our needs properly sorted from our wants
we just wait until we think we beat the system