Black Ice Poetry 16 - Mike Keane - Bog

The dansant in the dark side of the mind;the spinning wheels to snap the spine in the burn of rubber, take pity on the poor souls of the village that never wakes, the hairy mane tangled in the comb of broken teeth, the flaming eyes burning in the black sockets of the wolfish smile, the bruised mind wrapped around the fertile shawl of the rutting waters where the rainbow hides away from the gobby stare, the big legs jumping and kicking high in the frilly air of the lurid scent, stand tall and mighty proud in the wind of change for the father's son, pistol whipped in the sloppy kiss to light the embers of the dying fire in the love of lovers drowning in the rolling waves of valour smashing in the veins of a bitter sweet fall on the thorny rails of the wild birds flying high with the se