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Jun 2014
Hymths of wild hearts,
laced fresh with fruit and bark.
Knots of light hair
loosely tied together,
as birds in the fountain leave
feather after feather.

A *** of jam
black with sugar,
covered lid means lick it all over.
Berries, peaches and death,
are all targets for theft.
The three seem pleasant,
under the moon lit crescant
but Jacob and Jesus said Wait!
Do not bite the bait!
For the reaper's never late.

Afternoons turns into years,
from the cracks of bitterness
spill our tears.
It leaves damp, shameful spots
nothing can contain them.
except tombs or pots.

The jeweller's creations
lies in a mansion,
the servant eye the gold produce,
for with all their logic
it can't reach use.

Let's get out.
Let's take a hold of our lives
and bring it together.
We can live in a cave and
we'll change in summer.
Just don't abuse of nature's gifts
for what you take it here's and if
you get lost scream out loud for
leeches will **** blood
through the ground.

A empty *** of jam,
still black with sugar.
lack of jelly means open another.
Worries. Prayers, dire death.
Are the only problems we have left
The three seem poisonous
under the empty sky
but Jacob and Jesus said
Go on. Try !

Hymths of wild hearts,
laced fresh with fruit and bark,
open the gates let's sail the wind
And **** the sugar out of sin.
Free-write, discret critique of religion.
Henry Brooke
Written by
Henry Brooke  Paris
(Paris)   
422
 
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