Day in and out through the whole sun
laughing, playing, never to run
Lovely daisies picked ever so slightly
and into the grass fall so lightly.
...
The beat, the tick, the endless heart,
Comes quick, fast, like a a nonsense harp,
a percussion drill, so loud but faint,
Unstoppable, inconsolable, inconscionable to a deadly gait.
...
The crow rattles the sky, and the birds chirp their melodies,
as the rolling clouds come to a centre point,
and the thunder cracks through a hopper's vision.
...
Sometimes we think, we're all in control,
our life's like a bedroom, we're all in the roll,
it's a sleepy walk from here to there,
till at the end we're everywhere.
...
History, like a rotten egg, tills the endless fields,
it smells to high heaven, back inwards it is reeled,
For truly forever do the rivers run,
and back towards their source, as the rising sun.
...
A lion calls to his kin, warm the fire and shout the din,
The panther eats its prey, its red claws slicing the fray,
The gorilla beats his chest, spraying his word to all the rest,
Till one itself, put down the sword and lays it to rest.
...
When one looks into the sun, what will they find there, how will it run? Will they be a reflection, a mirror of light? Or some darker thing, to stir up an image of fright? Kill the soul or save it so, that later it may reapprise and grow? Or leave it be and let it wake, and in its own image shall it bake? Did the chicken hatch before the egg, or was the egg the one that begger? To whome do i owe my lovely right, to be seen, to see my tainted sight? ....
...
When the dead birds flutter in the wind so soft,
when the insects come around the dusty loft,
when the wind blows through hallowed lovely locks,
on a head so white and bleached.
...
As I sit here in my bed of night,
weaving long poems which but as metaphors burn so bright,
I wonder why, how I might,
see another, uplifting sight.
...