Tailor Bell

Tailor Bell Poems


Every night I must give up to
the next day
Grow tired, retreat and fade away
My heart calling out for more time

Out of my mind
Dug her up again
Her shiny coat
Pulled tight

Where ever she has gone
Is there a thought of me
As she looks up, or down
From my palm the old stone

There I was hammering nails again
into the highway
When Marge walked up from behind
'Hey benchworm...making a fort, eh? '

Beyond my upper deck
Before the open bay
Large houses line wide canals
Persistent molars of a near edentulous jaw

preferring not to read between the lines
but rather to witness the carnage, the visage
face to face
on the fast rollercoaster

In twilight days of half meals
We gathered weapons in, anger
Long stilled into vaporous ether
Whisked away unseen, a constant

Far from the feast of nine delights
From full ponds lillied in shimmering light
And boastful gods in vineyard white
We whisper approaching dawn

Faeries lie
And tell mortals
They care not
For it, yet

Here on the surface of the sun
Its hard to remember what you were concerned over
Ten thousand degrees or more
Inside hosts of hot-house cooks abound

I've been to the river
Lieutenant Picker and me
Seeking wisdom
Short among tall pastels

I need concrete with sharp corners
Green waves crashing onto rocks
Brisk air and salty stares

Opens a bloom near my reach
Untouched yet the heat

Full moon jags
Round this little town
Swinging low and deep
Within without a sound

Later on, my childhood friend Karl Marx
Was a big success playing in a rock band
Together we listened to smuggled Tull, as kids
He and his science friend introduced me to The Beatles

Silent bell and silent sun
Space enough between us
Now as then
Attached to spiny beliefs sharper at each start

I wish all day
That I was small
I turn to fast
And things just fall, away

Where, if now, brown cow
To see of me and be of me
To trade me at the days end
When after little work lay thousands

Shiny and twirling like a mad martin
Over a pond full of lazy mosquitoes

My nickel flipped end over end

It is again, the line of rulers, emporers
The long walk of brave little men
Passing in silence
As they guide themselves in

The Best Poem Of Tailor Bell


Every night I must give up to
the next day
Grow tired, retreat and fade away
My heart calling out for more time
My thoughts drifting off among
the sublime
So I pray in the spare
of lucidness
My hopes, my dreams,
my willingness
Yet into sleep I dive
full forward hurl
This other world might weigh
my mortal soil
To steal along the rich
and heady clay then
Slain by rising violins
So I must fall
And thus...I just fall...

Tailor Bell Comments

delilah contrapunctal 10 December 2009

Tailor is a brilliant poet in my view....and a delightful human being, as well....

2 1 Reply

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