God's Iron and other musings

God's Iron

Poem Jd Glasscock

A man stomps his way through the door, spurs digging wood, holster with cool iron as lean meat slapping thigh.....he rolls a sardonic whimsy and winks at butterfly girls grooving synchronized moves of sultry across a dust covered floor...he throws a fan of aces upon a table of grizzled men as he spits sin at their feet. "I've come for the tombs you've left behind...."

The scar pitched men of violent roads look up and laugh "we the sons of the devil boy, you best turn around and find a hole to hide yourself in"

The man of sideways grins and edged spurs and iron heating up on thighs laughs a mad mans thunder across the rafters.... "I'm Gods right hand devil spawn and your graves have been dug......let the choirs show you to their shallow mud"

He sends another wink at the butterfly girls sliding into a more frenzy provocateur of woven flesh as he sprays ecclesial prayers from now smoking iron clear of leather and thigh and opening truth in the sons of devils......

A fiddle starts playing a storm on the end of this folk tale.....tomorrow's are just yesterday's seen on strange looms

A promise is a promise

Lyrics by JD Glasscock from my new book Avarice of Want

The way she said "Baby"

made me so crazy

made me feel like

that one star

she made a wish upon

We met on a lake

in the light of the moon

her smile made my soul ache

and it ended too soon

But before we said goodbye

our lips let out a sigh

and we kissed to the lullaby

of dancing butterflies

The way she said "Baby"

made me so crazy

made me feel like

that one star

she made a wish upon

And as the days went by

our love rose so high

that we carried the sun

in the passion of our eyes

Dusk became dawn

and our spirits were drawn

to the place where dreams

birth songs

The way she said "Baby"

made me so crazy

made me feel like

that one star

she made a wish upon

We met on a lake

in the light of the moon

her smile made my soul ache

and it ended too soon

But before we said goodbye

our lips let out a sigh

and we kissed to the lullaby

of dancing butterflies

But then on a night

as dark as can be

she faded into the horizon

with a whisper

"alone is our fate, our sea"

For fear was the road

she had been raised along

A daddy who left her

and made everything so wrong

And when she looked

within her heart

all she saw

was another man

who would play her false

her yesterdays tomorrow's waltz

The way she said "Baby"

made me so crazy

made me feel like

that one star

she made a wish upon

The way she said "Baby"

made me so crazy

made me feel like

that one star

she made a wish upon

that one star she made a wish upon

made a wish upon

a promise is a promise

and some day I hope she finds solace

Indigo

Poem by JD Glasscock

Indigo was the color of her eyes on that strange irreverant night, good bye the word most often heard, the streets filled with confetti and revelry. Strange was strange as strange becomes -- shade wrapped sillohuettes creeping along alleys, small folk thigh slapping merriment down parched and choking throats. Dancers slid along the aves in spinning pirrouettes and smiles chipped in the veneer only well practiced sweat can carve upon a fracture of oval touch, all swirling and chewing meat within a halting haunting melody caroming off bricks and moonlit alcoves. She was a dream, though not a sleeping vision, but a flesh and bone come uppance of ascension just beyond finger tips, beyond, by a whistle, the moisture that gathers upon wet and hungry lips. And crowds gathered with collars and cloaks casting smiles in shade and deep looks upon a dark dip of eve. And Indigo was the color of her eyes as she weaved and slid through the croaking gasp of jumbled words cast in a madness that hung upon the edge of a world that stood upon the end. And I asked to be her friend, my atrophied heart a drink in a long desert upon a long road cozened within a diaphonous delusion of crumbling certitude, a long sigh in a long pause the answer she tilted upon the lamps casting belief upon supturation of a longing. Her hips spelled runes upon the miasm of memory, grace in a foot placed upon the cuddled lumination of a rumination awkwardly triaging upon the marrow of an insolent want. Hollow was the sorrow I tucked upon the beat that rythmed to the tap tap tap of breath as it brushed images upon the sky and the echos back pedaling the sugar wrapped plums of her hugging symphony. She pushed me gently with a whisper, with a hand upon my chest and a breast against the brittle carapice of agony parting a delusionatory pubescent artful tongue brushing statues to the enamored bumpkin crawl my legs trudged upon, to the chains heavy upon my broken hope, broken shoulders and broken soul, but with a smile,a beautiful radiant smile, a smile as salvatory as a chime upon the wind that careened upon all that stood within the shadows of the old church that hung upon the cross of our untimely reflection of debauchery and hedonistic etherial grasping of the eternal. Indigo was the color of her eyes as I tasted the premise of my demise and when courage or fear or some incindiary blend of either or none had roped my cast upon the truism of lives past and the assault of her trailing scent and empty silohuette coiled within the shedding skin of my too heavy emote of silence and saw with an honesty beyond an honest man's truth or a poor man's lie that she had long gone into the make believe of fables spent upon the cold that licked the page that wove it's final outcome. I realized that a word is a word is a word until you fist it upon a fabric etched in the soliloque of sacrifice, until you sin spit arterial spray and strip the flesh off the ligaments of your aspirations upon the threads of it's creation. Strange was strange as strange becomes. Indigo was the color of her eyes.