No Louder Than The Snoring Tigers Lolling Tongue! Poem by Mark Heathcote

O' my sleeping, weeping thoughts
heavy as army blankets, you and I
observing nothing but sunbeams.
Naught but lintel iron moonbeams,
under which no one listens
Nor speaks—but gibberish,
No one sleeps; no one dreams.
But even so, it's a sentry's landscape.
That's as foolish and bold as any heaven.
That's nonsensical -like any song,  
sung in rhyme—one learns to love.
That's as still as any silence-
Hammering in the darkened hereafter.
My horror anthem roars now as an alarm.
No louder than the snoring tigers lolling tongues.