Saturday, 30 April 2011

Tes Yeux Bizarres Me Suivent

Sex in Paris is defined by political vocabulary.
Sex in Paris is refined by abstract dichotomy.
Sex in Paris is just you, me and two hundred years
Of erotic revolutionary discourse.

You are Charlotte, the angel of the knife
And Louise under Caledonian skies,
While I am Gustave and Ferdinand,
Wrapped in some crude metaphor.

With your lopsided smile and your Communard style,
I worship your skin and kiss the ground you walk on:
Your beauty helps me breathe,
Tes yeux bizarres me suivent.

Russell J Turner – April 2011

Saturday, 23 April 2011


chin up big boy
fingers splayed and rope burns
no more jabber jabbering for you my son
just that slow chest crush
and the fading light sight
the hardcore clinging to the hillside weeping

steady now sister
the man you loved is gone
rolling the boulder and unwinding the sheet
just blood on your hands
and the helter skelter
venerated desecrated reduced traduced and bent

Russell J Turner – April 2011