Who knew it?
I’ve watched your ageless wonder walk right by my mind’s eye … Been missing this effervescent thing a fair while, a long, long time
No more violent s-miles
And you touch the sun which twists its reimbursed surface and turns to speak – kiss my bleeding knees, please
And he’s been standing at your restless grave again, touching that instru-mental taste
With you mother’s favourite cheek-brushed rebellious red rose kissing his nose n out the other side. Man-ic minds
┬áSome might say, no doubt my burgeoning realisation will reawaken itself from beneath these sad, shallow alabaster skies – guided n guised by no more lies
This ain’t no kinda victory march, baby, ‘cos winning ain’t been so easy anymore – forgive me, please … Ship to shore …
Standing here as your favourite branched olive-tree … Lent over backwards n thanklessly out towards – still singin’ n singein’ n all in one go
Til forever placed tantalisingly out of ethereal reach
Breach that thirsty surface, please? Til I feel my knees bleed, take make-believe s-e-e-d
┬áSafest to say that I am not prepared to meet my maker today …
Even if you’re already there with the shape of sycamore leaves put upon, leaving me all of the way alone
My summer sun, soon as the moon comes right back around. A finger-print in impalpable history and all of it is seen to be ours
Rhythm n Blues … Who knew … Not to refuse this dogged intrusion of yours
His courage won’t save him, but his trickery will … She won’t, though
Beating up on the piano – put upon him – to play himself in again. This living, seething, musically-coordinated vent-riloquist with fists for fingers
Gentle breeze … She still whispers … midst these anti-war feelings of hers and never his. An open-ended book of solid intrusion, refuses to ever go away. Take insurmountable heed, please … paying his maker a-dime-a-dozen too much to ever broach the angered surface of his shy sugarcoated white lies.
Oh, my … oh, mind.