Let's dream and twist the words when they arrive, and if
some words survive,
they are the one's to wonder at,
to gawp and gape and bristle with pride,
to have lived and died in this,
This,
the time of genetics,frantic phonetics, bodies in lines, that like the words twist out of time,
'and all this is mine', said the man on the throne and we should have known, it would have been stolen away.
Dreams for a day and then death,
on the mountains in space we shall draw again breath,we shall ignite and burn,turning out twisting words,black holes for birds to fly in,
plenty of space left to cry in and no one to hear when we do.
Through all of this comes the lass with the kiss which she plants on my lips.
I was wasting away but today I will shine and in time she will kiss me again.
In the drought where the rain was a stranger,I am strangely elated
wondering if this was fated
and if so,
why did I not know?
Am I not man born of man,am I not in the plan,am I out of the loop,
can I ever recoup what was lost?
Shall I toss out my dreams with the greens I can't eat,
Will it be salad,will it be meat,is this meant just to cheat me,to
put me down and to beat me?,this is what survives,
the questions that arise
when all's looking well.
If man makes his own hell then it's inside his head, where the words get all twisted like the blankets thrown down on the bed where he lays,
these are the days of dreaming and death and kisses on lips, where the breathing of life slips slowly away.