She is on the street in her little kiosk, At the break of the dawn, When many are still on a lucid dream.
Selling the most delicious of grapes Sourced straight from the vineyards
Assembling the previous day's discards all in a tray Discards For humans it maybe, But For her birds its a treat to relish. Swooping Down for it, day after day...
Mostly bought by the morning walkers, Many in numbers are they Old patrons, as they say.
Every day she sells her wares Holding the loveliest of smile That I have seen in years, Knowing what she hides behind that, though.
Never misses a day nor business, And back home she is before sundown.
Only to return the following day, With a new stock, at the break of the dawn.
It is no crime To say fuck it” And Move on With my Life
It took me years To realize this but Even now I take it As a privilege and Not a rite
Times like these Always bring me Back to this debate
And every time I say no no no I need to do it Because I can do it I gotta prove I can do it Gotta show ‘em Gotta teach ‘em Gotta learn ‘em About what I Can do
It's times like these That make me look Out the window at The clouds and truly Appreciate them
The trumpet blares Out of the speakers And I realize that I Might be cut out for This world after all
The Harvest of Grapes is Safe, It is protected by Dragons
The clustered, green orbs, glow with juice and lighted sun, The leaves wave in the gentle breeze "welcome" to all, have fun, But seasons ripe for theft and thieves, Who would steal into these nights, To remove the juiciest of these, Bacchus treasures and treats with perfected age, The hope of pouring a glass Of crystal clear bliss Could be gone, amiss, By some who would crush the cherished taste, And end this seasons harvest in empty sadness; Empty vine, oh the shame, the crime Of stealing grapes that belong to another's claim!
We have found the answer to our dilemma, "Worry not dear friend, i will be there for you my eyes Are ever so watchful, and my bright white wing span will Cause even the hardiest mischief maker to turn away, While my tail will beat and chase them From Your grounds, God's vineyards Your bounty This and every day, Until you pick your crop at its best But I have only one humble request, That you save the juiciest single grape for me King of the Dragons, that fly. "
DWE082013 Inspiration provided by photo Provided by Scott Olson
Grapes In the ear Taste like grapes Sound like grapes Feel like grapes For an image i bend You see twisted lump Of motion Flying For no reason Feet empty Empty mouth This empty mouth Tastes like grapes You will never know Your full fine feet Walk a walk I admire In spastic dreams Awake I prefer The taste of grapes Empty feet and mouth Grapes
grapes.
Author: Mark Wanless
0
Date: 16/11/2019
1050888
Grapes and Wandering
It's dusk Lustful grapevines curl around my ankles And I'm thankful it's wine season, the pickers should be around shortly to save me And bathe me in last year's crop to scare the grape vines into submission It's a decision they have to make Do they care about a perfect stranger enough to waste Roads of trucks of crates of bottles of red velvet Or white sunshine Or do they allow this ensnarement and turn a blind eye whilst I sink While thinking; pondering the fertility of the soil under my feet I'll wait for the pickers, just to see how they view me And in the meantime the vines are spinning yarns around me Crawling up my skin, holding me tight while telling me bed time stories Once upon a time there was a vineyard struck by a drought Caused by unrelenting calm, and clear blue skies with no clouds And they resisted, rationed their water between them, And it seemed then that everything was fine The crop was harvested and won best wine, but failed to mention how many vines Died in the making of their own blood Morbid and dry, a pinot noir fashioned out of pain and scars And tears in flesh, not human flesh, but the flesh of the landscape I didn't smile But it did make me sleepy I couldn't fight their grasp Addicted to their emotions I let them take me down into their fertile ocean And when the pickers came to discern the source of the screaming A new grape vine had sprouted and was teething
