White noise the modern day graffiti
so palpable on the steps of those who came
to leave their testament: though it remains unsigned.
Through paper thin arterial walls, cheap hotels
the searchers subsistence; all eternity is on the move.
Each day you bleed a little less, unsentimental
arrives to plays the pipers tune.
Bring on the earthquake as blow for blow your
rebellion mounts the summit, its flaws
flooding full to overflow on all those who stand below.
Living in punctured rhythm –
Piebald beliefs – that scream insanity
to some – whilst others will hail you
a modern day thinker!
Are you certain of that after life?
Can all that’s wrong be undone
by some blurred existence
of a dreamer’s paradise?
The eye of discontentment is there for us all to see.
To shade it from view is the best that we can do.
Poppy May 2013 ~xx~