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Eddie Frelford

T'is dopier to live in dystopia' (an ode to my sister)

My sister.
can't read. nor write.
but she knows not war.
my sister.
don't feed herself right.
yet she don't deal in war.
laughing at blackadder re-runs
recital of the every word
wearing tattered dressing gowns,
is she really that disturbed? ?

my sister. can't read. nor write
her pages scrumpled, ripped,
remain bright white, exempt of blood
my sister, unlike you,
fights off war.

she plays in peace, with adder's, black
dressing down, in her dressing gowns.

[...] Read more

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In Green Melted Yellows

it was in green melted yellows
amid branches of rhyme,
hidden leaves of moisture
at the dryest of times
where i first let unspoken lips,
speak for the mind.
in green melted yellows
betwixt with bananas and thyme
and old dying man sighed
'love itself cannot rhyme'
though it echoes down ages of pages,
shadows and scenes
honeygrass lemons, and
aqua sunbeams.
it was wrapped in green melted yellows
where i then understood;
the beauty of two lovers drowning
over one alone and afloat.

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