I heard whispers of a secret sound,
from Alexandria, hidden under the ground,
it was the steady beat, beat, beat;
more like a heartbeat, than a busy city street.

Now, they told me once and they told me twice,
that all occasions are played out thrice.
Three times of pleasure and of heartache too;
of a blood-thirsty conquest, the people's coup.

It was a global awakening, felt in the birth
of a bleak disregard for the marketing church,
a trinity of profit, of heat, light and gas;
of teenage lovers, beneath the underpass.

We stole through the farmland,
I pressed to your chest;
we sang to the autumn,
the coming of death.

We learned in science, of covert destitution,
prostituted knowledge to save the institution,
of rockets now missiles and force-fed thought;
where opinions are rote, and all politics bought.

The whispers returned in Sumerian sound,
tattooed on my skin, tattooed in the ground,
they came back to me, in my deep, deep sleep;
gold hair descending from the great castle keep.

I climbed from my body, led up to the sky,
as oceans gather from the tears that I cry,
in solemn disdain, for the conquest of man;
their synthetic wasteland, their three-year-plan.

We collided in memory,
as time was stripped away,
forever we were kissing;
forever we would stay.

I heard catcalls from a stone-circle mound,
clear as citrus to the basset hound,
whilst Jesus was caught dealing on the street;
exchanging numbers with the ****** he'd meet.

Now, they told me once and they told me twice,
that all occasions are played out thrice,
three lovers now nothing but a status update;
that we're nothing but slaves, licking the plate.

An introvert awakening, the three states of water,
hoping one day, to nurture a daughter.
To teach her of love without any condition;
to tend to her strength, to be her nutrition.