The jumbled froth of life
A frayed tapestry of ruin
Made sodden by the rain
Concealing a malignant thought
Those ancient instincts
Become my own tormentor
Filled with the reek of forests in decay
Merging dark in the webbed greasy darkness
Singing for the road
These levelling times
A brainless mechanical automation of jangling discord
Within the silt of memories
liquidated to the transitory currency of destruction
A drowsy chaos of reasoned passions
written on the passing wave
Dawn - hints at the shape of things - flexes
Through the struggles of our ancestors
Forever haunting the abbreviated memory of flesh
In our braided stream of citizenry
We are all the dead and dying..

Gypsy