COLLECTING THE ROSE.


COLLECTING THE ROSE. Written by Taylor John.
I. COLLECTING THE ROSE.
I.
Collecting the rose still your picture hung
her best yeah modern romance now often
barbaric heads blood-red count those years
having hung up her best contested
burst no seam nor unwilling universe between
sacred breast not really burnt no two stews
I have coloured no room never built her a valley
where no flower reaches but the needle or the dumb man in
her alley sew of many things rough bled waters richer
garden no pattern nor would undo
that so-called Aladdin picking of no rose nor Armageddon
i’ve a curly little beard like the ol’ garden’s hairy chest you want to bare
whilst licks of the sky stand in shivery repaired don’t worry i’ll groom you
thorns take a while to come out I have little ‘pinion cuddled no minion’ sway
even have a hand in it would not untie that knot (i ask not)Will:
‘break the better part, of..? trill..?

II.
It would loathe me stupor would own me ask not
not of temptation nor from that awkward spot i ask from
this dictation i ask not i’ll be weary of your brightest rose
your weather is waning for The Shore?careful of your bright roses’ dark millimetres
i race to the poem they never know when
i race to the poem the whim
i’d sleep with the chunks of sass of satin
whether be regardless i’d sleep
i have no line i’d sit in yours
i have no line nor score
i have brought that kindish’ palette from beyond the avenue
have true words to really spell it
the light is in the chores of the heart from beyond the avenue.

III.
It would rather please than mend
the Light is in the chores of The Heart
if we ever strike gold from beyond the avenue
it will be in their quietest hour
i think i’ll fluff up a win from The Contest
since I decide of who
a win not aloof nor substitute
i lean on no Rose?

IV.
Your weather is streaming from the annoyance it’s all so gleaming of the pore
your weather is waning for The Shore?
I’d last not one Set from the jet-racket
nor really need to ponder that professional wack?
my love has collision from the stale courting!
i think our numbers are numb from the nail of courting?
(the mathematics and philosophies and make-up don’t
make-up the sum!)

Love has neither a broken nor twisted thumb?
it instead works for the magic and the most confident One!
i am never going to be disappointed or glum to chalk up all that tyranny!
her blurb had already your love it met
the thickest of blood cool down whose mountainous pick?
it has arrow-heads for it’s stitch whether by Cupid’s Bow or arrogant sentiment?
listen to the hum for it just seems to thump death all around you!
it was even wedded in satin and a fleeing?
i’d therefore try to catch some grace and even try to show a face nestling
no more no disgrace..

V.
See in our ruin with the art that no-one really cares of
see that needle doesn’t dart!
i’d walk with a cello!
i’d even try to clean out my ears!
i’d play it! i’d learn!
and even cut it fine with a double-armed churn?
(i’d play it! I’d learn!)

VI.
She holds the rules of the comedy. (Is – the,
Intermission – now..?)
(she holds the rules of the comedy; this –
Hour..?)

II. THE TIGHTEST WILL FIT YOU.
Take off your labels and let’s play for it’s lighting up the darkest night
oh pretty day reproach nor gull not seen that spelled twitching of the nose
luck pretty parlour simple line she’s sick squire foot-sprung arbour chasing up the spine
it’s nought by your frown tightest fit set about her ordered colour gentry and a certain perspire
i’ll spill you some quiet wine?
it is amerced in need of new colour for the isle within hold the ghostly cute mold
tend the scolding eat through their brick so solace unapologetic novelty
the tightest will fit you!

III. WHETHER WE HOLD ROSES.
My eyes are closed with yours like of with The Glass though my eyes and tendons without a certain stark the scribble shows no work of art to drink alone to call the lark where we hear the birds the empathy never really so much mere coat i know
have a few more for me
would guide the feathers the treasure the I love you
the faults dear crossed their eyes (thought that the world would be so shy)
less trivial to call off the smarts or waver the dart
(i’d just work the garden and leave the wasps and spider and their sting or venom
the press of a rose melt in if it be your choosing?)
i’d arc no trededy i’d warm!
coveting the nestlings of the hooves of a mountainous mess asexual?
i’ll pinch not her pretty bum!
(Your hands touch The Rose..)

IV. TOUCHING THE NILE.
I. I’lLL TRY TO HANG UP YOUR PICTURE.
I. I’ll Try To Hang Up Your Picture. [July 18th, 2017.]
[(If – The,
Broken Bottle – don’t, miss:
“The jugular vein by just 1 millimetre.”)

(Neighbour – I’ll, Try:
To – hang, up :
Your –
Picture..?)]

II. Two Parks And One’s Doll Night.
[(Neighbour – Whose:
Bottle – ended, up – in,
That:
Certain –
Head-Height..?)

(In: One –
Park; and –
One –
Doll Night..)]

III. Neighbour I Have A Map Of A Horse City.
[(I’m – A,
Conservationist! (Yeah – I,
Know: Our –
Local Parks – are,
Pretty..?)

(Neighbour: I, Have –
A Map – of,
A Horse City..!)]

IV. There Is A Drunkard With A Horse And Pony.
[(A Local Man: among –
The,
Scouting senses – of:
Bums;
Sick – men,
And – women;
Prostitutes;
Beggars;
Gangsters;
Dealers;
Armed Robbery;
And –
Assholes:
Plenty..?)

(There – is:
A Drunkard – with,
A Horse And Pony..)]

V. Lesser The 12th Place Ribbon.
What, a great past few weeks of New Zealanders leading the world in sport! [I grew up, in Perth – Western Australia: where – as, a young kid – sport, was more compulsory than in Nx; meaning – you, had to do Swimming Awareness Certificates, and Cross Country Athletics: even – that, crude-ass Walking sport! Anyway – trophies, and 12th place ribbons – were, always handed out – like, religious prayer items. Anyway – New Zealanders, don’t go that far! Well, done! (Lesser – the, 12th place ribbon..)]

VI. Who’d Stitched Up The Hobo’s Jugular.
[(He – wants,
To:
Live..!)

(Who’d – stitched, up:
The Hobo’s jugular..?)]
It Is A Sport. (I’ll Try To Hang Up Your Picture.)

[(The Hobo’s –
Sweet,
Blunder..!)

(It – Is:
A,
Sport..!)]

VII. Elude They Are Writing You In Their Poem.
[(There’s – No:
Uncommon,
Thread; Nor –
Sanctitude..?)

Elude! (They,
Are –
Writing, You:
In –
Their,
Poem..!)]

VIII. Red Is The Colour.
[(Of:
The, Dawn; and –
Night-Fill..!)

(Red – Is:
The,
Colour..)]

IX. There Is A Poet Among The Harvest.
[(He’s – One: Who –
Acts – similar,
To: You; in –
His,
Artistry..?)

(There – Is:
A, Poet: among –
The,
Harvest..)]

X. We’ll Enclose No Winter.
[(Nor – really,
Even: Have –
Means – to:
Fill – That,
Denture..?)

(We’ll – Enclose:
No,
Winter.)]

XI. The Imagery Is Still.
[(It’s:
Short – of,
Rad:
Glamour!)

(The Imagery: Is –
Still.)]

XII. I Have Yet To Close
[(I’ve – No:
Dearer – Lip;
Nor –
Nose!)

(I, Have: Yet –
To,
Close..)]

XIII. If The Dance Were No Gladness.
[She’d –
Reach – for,
No:
Actress; (Nor –
Pantyhose..?)

(If – The Dance: Were –
No:
Gladness.)]

XIV. The Untitled.
[(Has – No:
Less –
Seductress..? Or –
Commonness..?)

(The,
Untitled – To:
His –
Chest..!)]

XV. I Close On No Nuance.
[(Nor – Open :
On – No:
Truance..?)

(I, Close : On –
No:
Nuance..)]

XVI. Death Has Made Me Hourage.
[(It’s – brought,
Alive:
Clear – tasteless,
Ambience..!)

(Death – Has:
Made – me,
‘Hourage..!’)]

XVII. I’ve Grinded Off The Title.
[(And – Kept:
None!)

(I’ve – grinded,
Off:
The,
Title;
And –
Chum..?)]

XVIII. Walk Them To The Eyes Of Dread.
[(If – He,
Has:
No –
Smart,
Recital..?)

(Walk – Them:
To –
The,
Eyes:
Of,
Dread..?)]

XIX. I Don’t Want To Make A Statement.
[(Nor – Nestle,
(Too, long) – In:
A –
Breast..?)

(I, Don’t: want –
To :
Make –
A,
Statement.)]

XX. I’ve No Need Of Breast-Feeding Nor A Bib.
[(I’ve – No:
Set –
Woods..!)

(I’ve – No:
Culling;
I’ve – No:
Gentry..?)]

XXI. Yet I’ll Tackle The Rose.
[But – Out,
Of:
Share – Might;
(Not –
Fancy..?)

(I’ll – Tackle:
The,
Rose..?)]

XXII. Close My Eyes.
[(And –
Reach: No –
Repose..?)

(I, Close:
My,
Eyes.)]

XXIII. I Have No Sheathe.
[Why – do,
We: Love –
Perfectness? (Her –
Sheathe: Is –
Rather,
Vile;

Why – do,
We: Love –
Perfectness? (All –
The,
While..?)]

XXIV. No-One Really Answers.
[(They’re – Too,
Afraid: You’re –
‘Gonna’:
Cut – off,
Their –
Beard..?)

(They’re –
Endeared..?)]

XXV. I Have A Lie.
[(Like – A,
Mountain; Or –
a,
Vile:
Tangerine,
Sky..?)

(I, Have:
A –
Lie..)]

XXVI. I’ve No Pretty Arbour.
[(Nor:
Even – Regard –
For :
The,
Splatter..?)

(I’ve, No:
Pretty –
Arbour?)]

XXVII. I Have No Heroes.
[(For – Their:
Ways – are,
Less – than,
Another’s –
Hurt..?)

(I, Have: No –
Heroes..)]

II. I HEAR YOUR GHETTO.
I. My Sandwich Has A Mouth. [July 19th, 2017.]
[There’s, honey! (And –
Most,
Of: the,
Time:
There’s – someone –
New..!)

(My, sandwich – Has:
A –
Mouth..!)]

II. I’ve No Steam-Boat Nor Railway.
[(I – Have: No –
Canal;
Line; Nor:
Real – Crude:
Cry..?)

(I’ve – No:
Steam-Boat; Nor –
Railway..!)]

III. I Have Turned.
[(Whether – For:
All – Your,
Charms..?)

(I, Have:
Turned..)]

IV. Where Saint The Fallen Star.
[(I – Have: A –
Mouth:
To –
Feed..!)

(Where – Saint:
The –
Fallen,
Star..?)]

V. I Hold A Lot Of Poets.
[(They – Resound:
For – No:
Better –
For,
It..?)

(I – Hold:
A, lot – of,
Poets..)]

VI. They Don’t Trepidate No Inquiry.
[(They – Barely:
Burn –
Themselves..?)

(They – Don’t:
Trepidate: No –
Inquiry..)]

VII. I Am Not Loosened.
[(Adhere:
Oh –
Dear,
ROSES..!)

(I, Am:
Not –
Loosened..!)]

VIII. My Slant Is Barely Extended.
[(Don’t – Give:
Me –
Shit;
Don’t – Be:
Heroic..!)

(My – Slant: Is –
Barely:
Extended..!)]

III. MOVING THE STONE.
I. Moving The Stone. [July 19th, 2017.]
[Gonna’ – ‘turns, an ugly over-grown ‘do-of-a’ garden – into, a beautiful pretty ‘bow – ah, in a wee bit..]

II. Mr. Anxiety.
[(As – ugly,
As: he,
Comes;
Remember – that,
You:
Are –
Beautiful!)]

III. Lay Aside The Rubber Hammer.
[(If – you:
Aren’t, really – That:
Mallet; or –
Strong,
Verse..?)

(Lay – aside,
The,
Rubber Hammer..?)

(“Strike:
The –
Pose..?”)]]

IV. Finger A Weed.
[(Strike – No:
Thorny –
Approach..!)

(Finger –
A,
Weed..!)]

V. I’ll Call It Winter.
[(The Arms – of,
It’s Lament: it’s –
Stem;
And – it’s,
Stupor..!)

(I’ll, call – it:
Winter.)]

VI. Her Dress Has An Awful Seam Of Splinters.
[(If – Concern:
Have, it..?)

(Her – Dress: Has –
An,
Awful Seam – of,
Splinters..!)]

VII. The Model Was Born For It.
[(I, hadn’t – really,
Noticed..!)

(The,
Model:
Was –
Born – for,
It..!)]

VIII. I Love His Cruel Banter.
[(If – I,
Really – mean,
To:
Love –
Him..?)

(I, Love:
His –
Cruel,
Banter..!)]

IX. He’s Enjoying The Sun.
[(The Cat:
Not – abound;
Nor – strapped: to –
One’s,
Selfish Glum..?)

(He’s – enjoying,
The Sun..)]

X. Ah, Tingle The Poker!!
[(Ah! (It – is,
Raw..!!))

Ah, Tingle – The,
Poker! (Better –
Done,
For..?)]

XI. Mister. (I’d Set No Storm, Dear; The Lucrative Elysee.)
(OHhhh! oHHH! O—-Wl, Shit..!!!!) [Wait, omn! World Wr (War) – What..? Mr.?]

IV. THE LITTER GALES.
I. I Love You Like A Spiritual Attack. [July 19th, 2017.]
[(I – Aren’t,
A –
Numb-Numb..!!)]

II. Hands. [July 20th, 2017.]
[It’s, 3 am. Watching, a deaf tv series – Switched At Birth. (The rest of the tv stations are Infomercials or Gardening.) (It – must, be: The Hands..?)]

III. She’s Working Three Night Shifts A Week On Wash Up.
[(I, almost – Fell,
Off: my –
Cell Phone; and –
Caught – some,
Dust..?)

(She’s – Working:
Three Nights Shifts (a Week): on –
“Wash Up!”)]

IV. Ludicrous Hands.
[“Ex” – marks,
The Spot:
(She – after,
Twenty Years) Wants – me,
To: fuck,
Her; ‘coz –
Her Man,
“Won’t..?”]

V. I Was Born Over The Water.
[(Over – The,
Rainbow) Over – The,
Fresh – nutritious:
Morter..?

I, was – Born:
Over – The,
Water..]

VI. Oh How The Litter Gales.
[(And – squeezes,
His:
Disorder..?)

Oh – how:
The,
Litter –
Gales..!]

VII. Oi Sort Your Shit Out!
[Like:
‘Two – Cats:
Scraping; and –
De-Nailing Claws (at –
4 am.!)’ – yeah,
They too: Have –
A,
Brow!

(How; Where;
When:
Bow?)]

VIII. The Seed Has Grown.
[(As – Mouths,
Lay – Open: to –
Chow!)

Oh – Strong,
Cat: the Seed – has,
Grown!]

IX. ‘Birdy.
[Oh – Dear: Your –
Smile – is:
‘Like: The Wind –
So,
Anile..?’

(‘Doddering – old,
Woman: sitting –
On,
Her –
Piles..?’)]

X. ‘Birdy Wings Spree.
[(As – One,
Leaning – on: That,
Apple Tree..?)

‘Birdy! Wings –
Spree..!]

XI. I Have A Bird.
[(This – Cat:
Has – no,
Mere –
Hands..!)

I, Have – A,
Bird..!]

XII. She Tickles My Mouth.
[I, Have: A –
Bird;
(She – tickles,
My mouth..!)

(With – The,
Litter Gale..!)]

V. INSIDE THE HOUR-GLASS.
I. She Writes His Door. [July 20th, 2017.]
[(She – Writes:
His – DOOR! (Nothing’s –
Come – to:
Pass..?)

(She – Writes:
His – Door..?)]

II. He Used To Sing “Mi Amore!”
[(If – the,
Given nights –
Pale..?)

(He, used – to,
Sing:
“Mi Amore!”)]

III. His Keys Are Now Old Steel.
[(With – The,
Whiskey; and –
Old,
Plums..!)

(His – Keys: are –
Now:
Steel..!)]

IV. The Rodents Have A Certain Itch And A Certain Squeal.
[(It’s – funny:
Below? It’s – funny:
Up – High..?)

(The Rodents – Have :
A, Certain:
Itch;
And – A,
Certain Squeal..!]

V. He Is Fore-Shortened.
[(Of – “Matter” (So –
To,
Speak..?)

He – Is:
Fore-Shortened..?]

VI. He Is On A Diet Of Eggs.
[(And – The,
Whore’s Secret; and –
Marital Bliss’:
Lament..?)

(He, Is – On:
A Diet – of,
Eggs..)]

VII. Lover Leave It Past.
[(These –
TRAPINGS: aren’t –
Much: of – A,
Laugh..?)

(Lover:
Leave – It:
Past.)]

VI. CLEAN-UP IN AISLE ONE!
I. The Wash-Up Sleeping Beauty.[July 20th, 2017.]
[She’s – ’bout,
To:
Finish – her,
Shift; O
Nightly Gown (how –
Did,
You:
Squirt..?)]

II. Hurt Is Burrowed In His Sink.
[(I’d – Disagree: I –
Think..?)]

III. I Am Her Apron.
[(I, am – Her:
Drunken –
Heart..!)

(I, am – Her:
Sorting : of –
The Sty,
From:
The,
Bacon!)

(I, am – Her:
Littered –
Discard?)]

IV. Girl You’ll Never No Discolour.
[(Nor – A,
Shy – of:
Wet,
Napkins..?)

(The Cry – Is:
A,
Sharp –
Horror..?)]

V. I Have Caught Me A Winter.
[(She’s – Keeping,
Me;
Dry?
Or – burnt’,
Pretty –
Splatter..?)

(I, Have:
Caught –
Me,
A Winter!)]

VI. In There I Have No Heroics!
[(I, don’t –
Even,
Think:
I, Have:
Any –
Colour..?)

(In, There: I –
Have:
No –
Heroics..!)]

VII. I Have A Pattern.
[I – even, Give:
Hobos – my,
“Fat Belt!” (It – didn’t,
Fit..?)

(I, Have: A –
Pattern..)]

VIII. A Tall Heart Put An End To You?
[(With – It’s,
Crazy:
Dart..?)

(A, Tall – Heart: Put –
An,
End to you!)]

VII. THROUGH THE FRAY.
I. His Poems Aren’t Getting Any Better. [July 20th, 2017.]
[(Nor – his:
Chin-Wags; or –
A,
Lesser – Vile,
Matter..?)

(His, Poems –
Aren’t,
Getting:
Any,
Better..!)]

II. Your Fray Outwits Your Glamour.
[(It:
Makes – me :
Even –
Wanna’ –
Chunder..!)

(Your – Fray:
Outwits – Your,
Glamour.)]

III. Go Back To Bed.
[And – CHAP:
Your –
Colours..!)

(Go – back:
To –
Bed!)]

III. I STILL HAVE FIVE FINGERS.
I. She Has A Modern Kitchen; And I Am The Gardener. [July 20th, 2017.]
Ok – what’s, the etiquette for answering phone numbers that are not on your contact list? (I, don’t – answer them! If – it, was important – they, would follow with a text – right? Or – are, they dumb-asses?) [Oh! Missed – a, Root?]

IX. PRESSED SHADOWS
There’s – no, idolizing the myer. People, change – day to day – well, at least after a while – eh? Their hurt – is, healed – by, self-gorking..? (There’s – no, leaving..?)

The Heart – has, an accurate compass – from, Pressed shadows. It – is, a sleeve – for, no other seductress..? Or – a, scream – at, their face (if, you give it a chance? Among – their, cute dance: the shoot – to, prance..?)

Dumb – up! Worsen – the, fear! Smile – at, the light, of day! (That – Ground-Hog Day..?) Sank – into, a stone – of, a black-pool or wretched ball: on – a, chewed on – Day..? (Sank – into, your – Stone.) A – stalemate – as, a harlequin calls..! (The – arched’ curtain – calling! That’s – all!

I’d – see, no more dead! (Whoever – would..!) I’d – see, no more – dead! (Wood?)
I’m – resolute, in my pride; I’ve – got, nothing left to say – I’m, mere born!

There’s – a, ball: we – call, Acute! It’s – shadowed, with: a – whore’s, wasted mooring..? (I’d – see, you – out, of the theatre! After – I, choke – and, spew! (I’d – lose, the ball – to, your wayward bounce..?) I’d – see, you out of the theatre: thinking – of, you – because, I hope you are well! (I’d – even, look after your plant!) I’ve – cuddled, up – with, the wind – Girl! Ventured – masked, to – O fend..! I’ve – undone, my spool..! Colour – fourteen, other men – with, daisies..! To – your, sleeve – I’d, therefore – bend..? You – can, wear – a, hat! If – you, shave that hair – to, it’s pores..! You – can, wear a hat – adore..! I’d – try, to touch – it’s, shadow! (I’d – even: out-score – the, ball..?) I’d – try, to touch – it’s, shadow; for – evermore..!

X. THE MOST ADMIRABLE TEAR
I’ll colour – the, moon – for, you! Having – a, final goodbye bottle – of, port! I, may have to go back – in, the rain: there’s – a, young girl : from – her, seat corner – dressed, in a hoodie, and shorts. And – it’s, pissing down! Her, ass – is, sporting a green power meter (in front, of the local fast-food restaurant.) (Her – breasts, must of swelled?) Her – eye: like – the, meter! Counting – the, stranger; her – givings, by the hour – bloat: for – whose, sunny dream..?

Tears – must, apply! (For – the, decay: to – hold, his throat : at – an, inch – from, the blade! Bias – to, your – Dear, Maid? Tears – must, apply!

XI. RATS CAN SWIM!
SOBER.

I. The First Poem.

Scream!

II. Darn Talk.
The, best darn word in there – is, the first word!

III. Cry of A Lullaby.
Grown men of Japan, arranging flowers for themselves – to, make themselves happy – when, depressed; as – the, Western man – coils, himself in his tie.

A bright, future – O Butterfly!
An, unmasked – lullaby..

IV. Bridge To Equality.
I’m, going to realize more, that instead of the hurt of my divorce – and, the destruction that followed with other relationships – caring, and loving people sober, is a lot different than what I was used to giving. Was, not violent – but, just a bit more shallow than I would of liked. That’s, what addiction can do to a person and others around them x I don’t want to be an asshole the rest of my life, in intimate relationships.

V. The Mess Has Several Acquired Good Parts.
It – stares,
At – the,
Stifling bull’s-eye..!

(It – mustn’t,
Compare?)

VI. Place The Board Upon The Table.
Pin – to,
It’s –
Chivalry?

(Don’t –
Break,
The Yoke?)

VII. She Settled On A C-Cup.
How – The,
Medicine Man – can,
Pull –
Strings..!

(And – how,
O Girl: you’re –
Now : No –
Ugly,
Thing!)

Please follow and like us:
0
ludicroushands

Author: ludicroushands

Christchurch born. Reside in Christchurch. Art graduate. Folk Musician. Poet/Writer. Gardener. Hobo.

4 thoughts on “COLLECTING THE ROSE.”

  1. Just found the music to go with the poem and read it again. Taking into account your comment.
    Oh, The, Hurt, I, understand. The longest and deepest pain. It Cuts you up so many times you lose the pieces of who you were.

Leave a Reply