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Dec 2020
open the door
yours films almost done

feast your tired, starving eyes
on the screaming screen
as a church ***** sets in motion
the rewinding of a binding sermon

whispers drift in on the west wind
from fruitful hilltops
into the blood floods on the streets
disguised as badly dressed drunken pretense

leaping through a swirly bokeh lens
smashing the fourth wall
the singer lays his song at your feet
sacrificing himself entirely

the allusion lies in smithereens
as kings and queens bend over backwards
trying to mend the four fallen horsemen
pondering what may have been

* let the wind guide you
past flying arrowheads

swim with furious strokes
through the anxious eggshell men
who sit with boggy intentions
at the gates of that sinking mire

move with the moon whispering shaman
as he toasts the beaded chalice
filled with amazonian vine brewed potion
rooted in the foundation of a forest

dance in fireside shadows
and on heavy clouds of smoke
to the beating of animal-skin drums
fly with him, let him take you

*
believe in the book
for a beast exists within you.
for JM
Rob Cohen
Written by
Rob Cohen  30/M/Cape Town
(30/M/Cape Town)   
64
   iixiixixvii
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