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MosaicPoems
he sold his house of cards and joined a band wagon caravan marching carolers streaming down the Nile River playing sad songs better searching for Jesus and the Pharaoh and Cleopatra and Madonna pop culture religion he kissed ferris wheels I never forgot the clouds We stole the timelines from trees Fractal fairytale disease Symptoms of make believe Falling in love life Wonderland lust Teaching kites how to fly Graceful ugly ducklings sailing the moon to peterplan So little princes and Indians can plant sunflowers While the aliens are on vacation Like surprise Christmas gifts of sparklers on new years the color of Atlantis books hidden in scrolls in marketplace buddhas The world travels around us As we play sad songs better We build homes for those without Feed our flesh to the Earth Death blooming circles Mary go round ring round the rosey sunset kind of apocalypse called bliss Wisdom streamlined by the old fisherman drowning in the fresh air as pinnochio waves from the whale saved by hopeful generation bred with care compassion Playing our sad songs better Christening the weather Baptising ourselves in the rain Calling the universe our church Truth seeds in our hearts and membranes Hummingbirds living in beehives Hybrid hope of tomorrow Letting lions and lambs play with mice Aesop playing banjo out of tune Poets turning into to fireflies Lighting our way home Through crop circles and ghost stories Not being anchored by our past We are no generation Titanic We just play sad songs better
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Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
Hymn
he sold his house of cards and joined a band wagon caravan marching carolers streaming down the Nile River playing sad songs better searching for Jesus and the Pharaoh and Cleopatra and Madonna pop culture religion he kissed ferris wheels I never forgot the clouds We stole the timelines from trees Fractal fairytale disease Symptoms of make believe Falling in love life Wonderland lust Teaching kites how to fly Graceful ugly ducklings sailing the moon to peterplan So little princes and Indians can plant sunflowers While the aliens are on vacation Like surprise Christmas gifts of sparklers on new years the color of Atlantis books hidden in scrolls in marketplace buddhas The world travels around us As we play sad songs better We build homes for those without Feed our flesh to the Earth Death blooming circles Mary go round ring round the rosey sunset kind of apocalypse called bliss Wisdom streamlined by the old fisherman drowning in the fresh air as pinnochio waves from the whale saved by hopeful generation bred with care compassion Playing our sad songs better Christening the weather Baptising ourselves in the rain Calling the universe our church Truth seeds in our hearts and membranes Hummingbirds living in beehives Hybrid hope of tomorrow Letting lions and lambs play with mice Aesop playing banjo out of tune Poets turning into to fireflies Lighting our way home Through crop circles and ghost stories Not being anchored by our past We are no generation Titanic We just play sad songs better
History repeating in childhood
Mosaic
Written by
Mosaic
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
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