Wilderness – against the raw naked wind
days of futility – torn between
these empty lands of fortified migration.
Gravestones on mass, innocence fallen
cut deep amid the whining grass.
Intense of red
the flowers of fury, placid folded.
Heads frayed, touch the ground
between the rows of sleeping.
Killing time, eyes closed
bare footed, waiting for their
mother, brother sister – lover!
Dust of battles long time wrestled.
Therefore, shall the young ones remain
in all but their name…?
He tells me, that he has seen heads swiped
clean from their body.
Their aftermath, more naked than the day
that they were born.
I cling to his fragile youthful hands
swabbing the violence from the fragments of his vision.
I found him – fallen here
in this place where you know you are mortal.
The landscape no longer distinct, outside the rutted roads
now strewn with the bone remains of shrunken men.
He will have had so many expectations –
Roads to travel – girls to fill his head with lustful dreams.
What now in this shrinking of his closing pain.
What I said about this was much less, than I saw
as I took my unhappiness, and headed up the hill…
You are of two shadows, each discreet of the other
sitting alone for midnights blackest skies,
to come and block you from my view.
Allow me to decorate your grey,
placing purist calico thoughts, of scattered home effects:
Expected pauses – I can go with that
swallowed ideals –
the tundra of your mind, soaring
to their high hills, and hiding places.
I softly finger trace the outline of your life
pleated folds, splatter raindrops
on your life’s, convictions.
Slip to slide, your footsteps,
sown between the indemnities of my needs
and your leaving.
Undressed, we let the tinderbox ignite
hermetic fragrance swaying drunk; the
sea holds tight her unbridled ire.
She places her hands around your empty stare
permitting me to love you – just this once
with all of my copious; naked care.
You came home –
just as I knew you would
so shall we light the hill side beacons
burning to rid your mangled dreams traded with some stranger
who troubled you with the political line of their treachery.
I could have managed well, without
the sound of the postman’s gravitas sharp steel toed
foot fall displacing the gravel as he called.
I waited for you to ask
before ripping apart the walls of ingratitude’s seditious slander
slopping out the barrack rooms arrogance of pride
and yet you never did!
How repulsively uneven the mud flats of our existence dwell
they have no feeling no depth of remembrance
spreading a malignancy goring away
on the good man’s infatuation of incorruptibility.
Yes you fought – yet ask me not for reasons clothed in your bravery
for all I can counter shall be
Destroy not the common daisy
on this pleasant afternoon
for when the lawn is barren
banality and greed shall parade itself to centre stage.
With their meddling white hatter, chatter
crusts all squared, cucumber sliced to thin as ice.
Nothing stops to break the explosive tones of the utter slush
spewed from their lawn mower mouths
as they strive to assassinate the weeds, from
their kingdoms privileged ranks.
Disregarded for our heritages guttural tones
yet not so shabby, when it comes to stealing our money.
They march us out to battle, to appease their daily wrongs
force feeding us, their two faced lies of hypocrisy
with their “Dear Householder” literature
shoved unwanted through our doors.
Benevolence for the daisy I say;
you Lords and Ladies all –
Think, that for everyone which lowers its head in pain of loss
countless more anticipate their births uprising
sitting patiently – just waiting for the call…