Fear in a handful of dust

entry picture

No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace,

As I have seen in one autumnal face. John Donne

 

To fear a note of music is not rare.

Listen. We know the wild that is in us

In a Hammer Horror or under Victorian

Street lights. The echoes of a Whitechapel

Hacking dispels air, makes breathing difficult.

The dreadful dreams of sepsis still haunt

Me. Reach inside and tug at the underlying

Scream. All the time the rain falls down

Drip drip drip drip drip in merry Einglan

Find a way to say the truth then realise

The truth, the truth will pull out your eyes

Once upon an old time there was a all past

Time and he passed time and prayed.

It never did the congregation any good.

Never think you never can, you can:

Extremity of mood is  the mother of invention

Some say this, some say that, I just cough

Play Solitaire-roses in wild john o China

Garments then say it, say it again, again

 Sophia we're going to stop this  now

Before everything gets out of hand

For the wind and the raiin fall

As I climb the steep Cornish cliff

All these embedded fossils staring

At me, telling me how it used to be

In the Jurassic and who can say

What's going to happen or do away

With the beginning is the end my friend

I retrace my steps along the vertiginous

Path. Wobbling, I recall the words and tone

 Don't come back home Freddy, just don't.

Pastoral, and slowly,  simply and solely

I see the slippery snake slowly slither

Over the steep hillside, dropping into the sea,

Like a salt-water crocodile,  smelling blood. 

 

◄ Empty Bench

Killing off the Elephants ►

Comments

Big Sal

Fri 7th Dec 2018 21:53

Primeval instinct meets primordial emotion borne of human error and trials.

Can we ever truly be free? Were we ever truly free to begin with? Escape the prison to find the sea. Escape the sea to find the walls. Escape the walls and find the dirt. Escape the dirt? I think not.

I dread what conjures such manifested beasts from their slumber, but I can see from the horizon that it will not be dark forever. Something has got to give. It's a treasure to have found such poetry while I am on Earth.

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