Harbored Ports

Buoys float on blue-green brine
In flares of flaking chicory reds
On alloys of rusted parts
As chains act as anchors nearby
Harbored ports, littered with
Boats along the coast.

Oils discolour with toxicity
As its poisons fill up gills
Of the poor little fishies
In delirious quantities
In noxious dreary knolls.

Booms contain whilst skimmers collect;
Missing forgotten ambiguities
Of misconceptions in disbelief.

Uncertainty

Zombie hordes in zealous zebraic rampages
Destroy our homes in the Ternion Zone
In post-apocalyptic zoomorphic fuzzy forms.

Zion swings his double sided spear,
Of cast curvatures with sharpened edges
Of a lacquered handle designed
With golden scrolling vines,
Of a lotus inlayed with mollusk shells,
Of sprouting leaves in tinted jade,
We think.
With impossible speeds; Shrilling
Before our vision can keep.

Zipping past in blurred zest
He pulverizes our zenic advances
In jest.

Searching

Icy iris’ drawn
In ball pointed pens
In the blues of knowing.
Azure spite filled eyes
Filed in failed attempts
Of how my feet barely
Lifted off the unkempt,
Of how I kept rolling in
This same narrow lament.

Accusations that freeze and burn
When what I wanted was
To be free to run.
These watchful eyes, they burden
And forcefully surge; I swell. Feebly feeling
My make-believe golden wings warping,
Bending from the slightest bit of pressure
As they tell me how I had promised
Those naive fickle numbers.

I know what I said.

But while these eyes,
They bite and blister,
I know that I need them.

Otherwise
I’d stop

-Sabs-