Sand

I am a chicken,
I eat Sand.

It helps me digest,
as I graze the land.

I am a chicken,
I squawk and squawk.

I am a chicken,
I don't speak English...


*cluck cluck cluck*,
*cluck cluck cluck*

*cluck cluck cluck*,
*cluck cluck sand.*

Sand

the white powdered sand beneath her, beneath me...
do you remember it well, my wounded? you minx.

the warm soft bed we made that night, around us...
did you savour it as i did, my beauty? you angel.

the dizzying intoxication of her purity, in me...
can i have it again some day, on my lips? you dream.

the ever rising level of rythmic movement, with her...
shall we ever let it be forgotten, my passion? you vision

the raw molten heat of our oneness, in her...
does the memory bring you some back, my fire? you warmth

the slowly nearing explosive end, was everywhere...
oh, do recall with me those rolling moments, my one? your two?

the subsiding tingling recouperation, drawn out...
the wonderment at the power of words, my friendship heart? you woman.

(ps: do you remember? *prrrrrowl* "you amaze me")

well... sand... sea shell dust it is....

thanks

Sand

sand below me,
surrounding,
impounding my skin.

slowly drowning,
pulling me forward,
engulfing my mind
in shifting caress's.

not releasing,
clutching, gripping
now at my waist,

my body forsaken,
winds swirling this
mask around my limbs,

hands pulling at visible
forces unable to grasp,
and a mind misunderstanding

coming to grips.

Sand

I lie on the beach,
Water tickles at my toes,
A vast expanse of clear sky is my blanket.

And next to me on the shore…
Stands my castle in the sand.

The waves will come
And slowly tear down the walls
But for now, I lie next to my castle in the sand.

Sand

a torrent misma of sand raised up
hands of light piercing through it
the strange mystical veil of darkness

seeking an eye through one of those light wounds
hiding away
digger, cover myself
a sand mystery blotting out
everything I've ever done

a shooting glimpse of the outside
passing over the pouring particles
can only be watched

dug down
under my blanket
keeping in out and out in
real life passes by, behind
this sand charade of haze

Sand

a torrent misma of sand raised up
hands of light piercing through it
the strange mystical veil of darkness

seeking an eye through one of those light wounds
hiding away
digger, cover myself
a sand mystery blotting out
everything I've ever done

a shooting glimpse of the outside
passing over the pouring particles
can only be watched

dug down
under my blanket
keeping in out and out in
real life passes by, behind
this sand charade of haze

Sand

Sand...hmmmm...rightio then
*ahem*

There once was a man from iceland
Who liked to roll 'round in the sand.
It got in his britches,
And it had 'em in stitches
But when the coppers showed up he was banned.

Thankye

Sand

sand
in my hand
in my shoes
on my toes
on my clothes
on my skin
in
the way i feel
about the real
deal
between you
and i
and i cry
when i try
to understand why
it all falls through
my hand
like so much
so much sand

Sand

The lawless dust of land.
Its blows in dunes, it moves like snow.
It flies around, the desert land.
It zips away, from open hand.
It flies around, to foregin man.
It thwirls about forever glad.
It thwirls about, never sad.
Around mankinds ruins.
around desert bones.
All around us, there it blows.
We can do naught, but gasp in awe.
For sand is of eternal age.
From the moutains, to the seas,
Sand will forever, haunt thee.
yes, sand and stone and rock alike,
Forever dwindling to winds might.
Forever voyaging, into open dreams.
Forever moving, time. It seams.
The sands go by
as ages pass.
The sands go by
In ages lost.
The sands are there, forever, mind.
The sands are there, so be so kind.
To let it flow, to let it go, watch the ever mighty flow.
Take your heed, and kneel in awe,
Sand will surely, fill your grave.
Sand will seeth, to open heart.
Sand will see, what stops a dart.
Sand will never go away, as long as mighty moutains stay.
In the Eternal winds they blow,
and now this poet must go go go.
To end the poem, yet with grace,
Heres a final escapade.
Sand in your hair.
Sand in your feet.
Your probably standing, at the beach.

Cheers from Alderach! Poetry Bastard and Loving it!
Sweden 2002 Jan 6 at: 03.44 (sunday morning)

Sand

Soft beneath my feet as I walk,
Hissing grain on grain,
Whispering ghosts of forms past.
Time and tide prevail,
Returning fire's rocky child
To the dust of the stars.
Echoes of a million waves,
Surfdancing stone to sand.

06/1/02