shadow moat

the solitary annexer hounds the commons
always on the selvage,
the shallow moat a resting place for the quasi warrior
who vigilantly tags errant trespassers

but apart for those dervished squirmishes
dictated by need and arrival,
those damned forged emotives
that are lush and always on point,
the burn of intimacy is red hot, acidic
....and shunned

the periphery is courted and guarded with a vengeance
do not cross that line....
you will be obliterated,
wiped from the the surface of the shadow's slate
never to savor umbrage again

Rosaceae stomp

the rose,
so red and hematic,
frozen in a stasis bespeaking an organ
trampled under paws of clay
and muck

the petals,
velvety and smeared with rancid dew,
oiled and stinking
of intent gone overdue
with consequence

the stem,
a long, thin
rapier of relief
with vicious thorns to prick the unaware,
left by those who don't give a clue
about lost adoration

the gift,
it's shallow and feckless stamp upon plated rainbows
abandoned as an over sight in a drive-by deluge
of signals that failed to include
the warp in trajectory

the bestower,
negligent, feral
naught but a fictitious mockery,
an idolizer of backwater by-ways
where guileless concubines vie for
stainless exaltation

the missive,
a word to the wary......
to invite disregard
by the enigmatic horticulturalist
is to leave your devotions
tender, ripe for economy