The Dark Angels are a come and go crew. They create then disappear like street art. Their works exist in fragments, particles that float, dust motes that spin before the wind that blows them to faraway places. They are individuals that work as one. Deep as oceans, as impenetrable as the night. Art urchins and poets, they dissolve before they form. They are the Dark Angels, they are discharge. They are a bloody mouthful.

Saturday, 13 October 2012

Same as before...

See the features
to the new night
fresh wondering mind
Its the same
then maybe
that's alright.

My sham
a hero
which can
like before...

That's just my game
weed me out
endanger me
impossibly plastic
a little bright
see the flame
body fluid
like me
with illness.

Walked into line
a law giver
but satirically mocking
this self
out of necessity.

I melted out loud queue
let breed.

I run to the door
sentence split

I thought
I shall re adjust.

Each fly wanders down
I drain myself
and rearrange

Heart warps
place me tightly, pack me in
with imagine of the satellite smile
ripped plucked and fluttered
awe muttered
in synch
sirens reach me
by the
rider of the instance
still beautiful
deal out
bail out
to flight
please lead me
place me in a row of pawns



TICTAC said...

love it nice to see you back! cheers

Russell 'C.J.' Duffy said...

Upon my soul...powerful words

Oilsforfun-Cristina Homem de Melo said...

Wow Aron this is a FLIGHT, in me ,in my head and in my bood

STILL BEAUTIFUL - you of course

Aaron Held said...

Thanks everyone :), This is a cut up of some my other writing, recycling them into some thing new.

Ruela said...

nice one