Jan 2017
The last time the river beds drowned*
you knocked by the door and offered
sinking dreams of whales and fails
doomed stars burnt in flooded skies
tainted leaves heaved on angled heavens
visions of torture in trodden deserts
tensions of fractured love inserts
On the bridge of ambivalence, I tossed a coin
a plank set adorned with red ankh signatures
I took your hand, you drooling phantom!
It's nearly a year now, in your world runabouts
another day, a heavier destination, a hesitation
the silence, the demise, the whining ice arise
absent shoulders eating my independence
The freedom you longed in the winter breaks
dissipates thinly in the thunder stroked flakes
and the tears dried and my summer suffice
confronted by an endless long year in the cold bed
covered by conversations of the specter sceptered specks
deranged by miles and the longed played nights
on a realisation that you were never really there
Fleet along young one, the years are a swift ear
listening continuously, whilst switching promptly
making dreams from a mould of changing trims
flinching, twitching perceptions of new beginnings
for I no longer stay at the phone reaching, waiting
nor stay in the patch of haunted misery and hate
*join the next column and stop treading in my camp
you knocked by the door and offered
sinking dreams of whales and fails
doomed stars burnt in flooded skies
tainted leaves heaved on angled heavens
visions of torture in trodden deserts
tensions of fractured love inserts
On the bridge of ambivalence, I tossed a coin
a plank set adorned with red ankh signatures
I took your hand, you drooling phantom!
It's nearly a year now, in your world runabouts
another day, a heavier destination, a hesitation
the silence, the demise, the whining ice arise
absent shoulders eating my independence
The freedom you longed in the winter breaks
dissipates thinly in the thunder stroked flakes
and the tears dried and my summer suffice
confronted by an endless long year in the cold bed
covered by conversations of the specter sceptered specks
deranged by miles and the longed played nights
on a realisation that you were never really there
Fleet along young one, the years are a swift ear
listening continuously, whilst switching promptly
making dreams from a mould of changing trims
flinching, twitching perceptions of new beginnings
for I no longer stay at the phone reaching, waiting
nor stay in the patch of haunted misery and hate
*join the next column and stop treading in my camp
Fleetwood Mac : Dreams
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrZRURcb1cM
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mrZRURcb1cM
