In the sprawl of narrowing strata
Engraved paths shoot misty grass blades.
A yawning sun, mellow light
Dappled across the rugged trench carved into dirt.
Dry bed, weeping silently
And invisible to the tuning in the pearls of our ears.
A clamber with melodies whispering,
Bracken sticking to the breeze
In a coarsely sung harmony of
Razors woven into green cloth.
These tombstone rocks
Sliding; descending through a scale,
To a bent and broken tree,
Hollowed with amplified vibrations.
Once struck by lightning and cursed,
Arching with the bow from fingers of light.
Dissonance amidst reluctant sunny breaths.
Wide open, transparently naked.
Do we expose each other,
Strip skin, stroke scars,
Masticate and spit out bones,
Swallow and devour our souls?
Showered by the selfish legacy, media brainwashes the masses.
Eyes roll destitute of vision, bereft of independent decision.
Within the hypocrisy of silence, arrogance stains the soil.
Whispered visions travel with vapours, dismissed as impossible; idealistic; naive;
‘Misguided, young heart you are nothing but:
The wrong sex, wrong colour, wrong empathiser.’
Imperial greed still reigns.
Wretchedness of past despots are worshipped by the boomers.
Compassion mocked by powerful elite, amplified in print.
Humanity destructs inevitably, with a manifestation of exhaustion and apathy.
The self fulfilling prophecy of weakness can be halted
But we must believe in our strength, in our voice, in unity.
“I think there are two ways in which people are controlled. First of all frighten people and secondly, demoralize them.” Tony Benn
His love was real; yet abstract,
Romancing a dream of a future,
That he could not live.
Reality he could not love
And in blackness he leapt with
Dragging him to an absoluteness
That he knew
He did not really want to live.
Make each other laugh
A bit too loudly,
Eat noodles and create a mess,
Play iPod roulette,
Eat vanilla ice cream
With black bits in,
Walk by the sea
Climb a hill,
Be in the audience,
Watch each other do their job,
Investigate whether music
Can make the hairs on our arms stand up,
Stagger home from the pub
Put a tent up in the rain,
Weed the garden shouting chit chat,
Help each other put a rucksack on,
Carry out a joint bargaining strategy
For a wooden statue in a Indian market,
Stand speechless in ancient ruins,
Guide each other home,
Read a story out loud,
Digest the weekend papers
From cover to cover in silence,
Watch the night stars
And the dawn from a boat, mud hut
Or bedroom window;
Hit by a storm
Rendered dysfunctional and unsafe
Left alone to face
Ravages of time and seasons.
The Devote worshipper, undeterred
Tempted by your simplified existence
And believed in you.
There you stood
A testament to faith.
A thorn to the fickle masses
Who refuted your existence
And do not truly comprehend.
Yet, the path to you was brambled and wild,
Separating those who had faith,
From those who renounced.
I will never sit there with you.