Cleft hooves clump the ground,
A snort, a sneer, a stutter,
The soulful sojourn of the pan pipe flutter,
Is the trademark of the satyr.

He passes by,
Sigh,
Brown, yellowy hair,
Jigjag outlines like fallen leaves
Adorn his clothes,
In his eyes autumn blue skies shine,
Tussled hair brushes his face from the wind
And he makes me smile.

He passes by,
A smile on his face,
A ruby red stripe on purple bluish cheeks,
Ebony brown hair and pale blue eyes like the winter sun.
He holds his hands to his face,
Breathing the breathe of life into them,
And he makes me warm.

He passes by,
Thistle green eyes and bruising body,
Coiled like a spring day, come undone, sprung.
Like the fresh flowers along the lane
And adorn the hedges.
And he makes me love.

He passes by,
He smiles at me,
I sit there in the summer sun,
All these years I have loved him,
But Time passes on.

Oh Son of Time,
You are so youthfully beautiful,
But how quickly yet gracefully,
You grow old.

I have run down the sun,
I have gunned it down dead,
I have taken down the world,
and put a bullet in its head.

Oh no - shards of shadows,
hints of memories lost,
I took the life of another man,
Because I believed in the cross.

Surround me now, oh children young,
For it is for you that I have sold my soul.
Cluck the clutch of bullets young,
In the magazine of my crook’ed gun.

I look at my mind in rewind,
A series of rehearsed images burst.
Somehow I remember nothing but my worst
hours
Hours
hours
Hours

So now I relinquish – for this is my finest hour yet,
I have destroyed the best for myself.
I do not deserve better,
For my sins are costly memories.

I shall cast myself into the sea,
The sea from whence I came,
To beginning of the ride,
To the beginning of the game,

I am happy now – content to say the least,
With a wry smile like the cat with the cream,
It has been a while,
My time has come to a close,
Its been a long time,
This deflowering of the rose,
I have resisted for so long.
I - like the beach - have held back the sea,
Held back the sands of time.

But in the end no matter how long it takes,
The end is inevitable,
So now I my life lay waste.

Follow me, me, me,
I shall lead you
to the parting of the seas,
I shall be the one

Day and night,
fluffy clouds of living wool and ticks we are,
not in the sky, but grounded in green grass around,
We follow you,
You I have never known, never seen,
but leader by seeds of my ancestors sown,
I have grown with the herd, all I have known.

The shadows are watching,
Wolves across the darkened prairie,
Awash in the milky white of moonlight,
They hunt by night,
These wisps of fright.

You Leader, Oh most Invisible one,
at the front of the run,
wolf-wary and toiling under the sun,
And moon.
The wolves are always looking to the sky,
I wonder why ?

Then so did I.

For the first time ever a sheep has never
Has actually looked up high,
Into the starry hea’ens,
studded glimmers on a wolfs black coat,
the wisened old hunter, the cunning wily,
a secret of the cut throats long known,
peers down on me, their stories, older than my oldest me.

For the wolves know, my leaders head is low,
That we move into the fields, there by the northern star,
And there will be a gathering,
A feast of lamb to behold,
For the collection of wolf covens of old,

Our pastures of peace lie to the east,
By my reckoning of the stars,
But my leader follows the reckoning of old,
A forgotten past,
A legacy that goes to our death every year
To feed the wolverines that costs us dear.

Borrow me a dream,
ungodly like the beating sun,
my memories of the mourning morn,
sold to me by a government old.

A day I captured text perfect
on bleach’ed pulp, a seed of
thought, amongst the buried dead bodies
by the river.

Borrow, for I must return
it to the country I remembered,
an image burned, into the
conscious and unconscious of
a legacy we ought behold.
The sun, today, it is cold.

Mom, Dad - what have I done,
your ill-begotten son
Asunder and on the run,
from the plague and tyranny
rebegun
I’m living for the sinking
of the erstwhile setting sun.

Somewhere from the shadows deep,
You creep into my decrepit bed.
I must sleep,
And you caress my tussled hair,
And tease me with your angel breath.

Far away I can hear you whisper,
Keep my secrets for me,
Lingering thoughts of passion,
****** and intrigue as your hand
Wanders over me.

I ne’er felt this way before,
The prison doors are barred and shut.
I sleep alone at night in the shadows,
With you alone in my bed,
With you alone in my head.

I feel I should tell you everything,
Everything about the past;  good old me.
The nice I was outside of here,
The things I did to get me in,
The things I scream about,
The puddles of sin.

And then you kiss me,
hot breath and wires,
tall tales about love as your breath
expires,
inspires,
heart beats,
catch the liars.
Sleep.

Memories of my freedom, remind me
Of the stories of my ancestors.
Roaming wild and free beyond the trees,
The sprawling Serengeti rivers believe
In the magic of the beast.

Undulating plains masking terror and blood shed,
In and amongst the interwoven, lions brown and grass
Our ****, our savour, the brilliance of blood splattered,
In an unfair fight,
For years it is all I have known.

But it is the right to roam,
The lands are our home,
We were free, the rulers elite,
Highly amongst the kingdom they speak of us,

And yet there beyond the trees,
Lies a dark malicious enemy, intelligence
Unknown, but vast,
Disenfranchised us of our lands and our birth rights,
Has built a fence,  around my youth and intellect.

Now stripped I stand there – lost in thought,
Everything has changed – fraught
With tears and upset.
For we no longer rule the world –
It is in the hands of uncertainty borne.
And now I have had to grow up
Believing we are not alone.