Author: Richard J Tilley
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Beacons of Oppression
No more past and frozen Broken dollars on the costume’s edge No riddle to be stolen Or hid between her parked legs There are ships on the balcony Solid in...
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Disafforested Bounty
Disafforested convenience in the Land of neighboring plentiful streets Of broadcast entries and solemn In the reins of remarkable beauty, Where pigeons grow And count the blessings of rush hour,...
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Faulted King
I lie on my grave Hunting the great parade For I was a faulted king But a king all the same
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If History Itself is God
I wonder if history is God, or, That people too often mistake History for God. I’ve managed To confine myself in an ontological Pseudo-inspiration for both Logical trespass and pacification...
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Never a Poem
I am not a poet I like to thread words together And frame meaning Like something that bumps against consciousness But I am not a poet, besides, Who understands these...
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Adept to Frozen Language
From the mark of scolding winter To the prison of language’s limited ashtray There are those who stare from the balcony of defeated highways, And resume old tattering scales among...
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Riddles in the Rain
Loneliness escapes through the Wells of disappointment, demarcated As stolen words on lost texts Where radio sirens play holo-bells And remarks, on stage. Like Saturday calls and greets Its final...
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In Favor of Music
Sometimes perspective escapes us. Not out of lack of desire for Clear sight, but instead out of A deep regret for the living Experience of sadness and disrepair. Loneliness is...
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Counterfeit Dreams of Transparency
There are sacred brocks in the evening Cherished as the morning brush Sacred like a stone’s smooth tones Nothing left to store There are no memories for the night That...
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Fearful Architecture
There has been a notion For altered phrases Or subjective hymns Like crystal in a coat of grease I preface myself for my own Safekeeping And temper the Earth With...