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Tapping
sleepy gathers

in the bombed-out
church of expectation,

fundamental frequencies

too cynical to pray

Because
the senses crave
mistake

I worship
from afar

these days,

when everything
that's ever loved

leaves something else

betrayed
 Jan 8 preston
Little Bear
coming home at half past dusk
my body is so very weary
my fingers are cold
my tummy
empty
my thoughts are of home
as i trudge my way
through the darkness

a darkness that falls like
autumn leaves.

from late afternoon
the darkness settles
on the ground

starting with the sky
it falls like a billowing eiderdown
onto a cold autumnal bed

twilight flutters
and spiraling down
it slips quietly between the streets
filling fields

covering
in layer upon layer
of blues and violet hues
upon the houses
and the buildings below

tiny stars begin to glow
as the sky turns to indigo

dreams fall upon the cars
and their lonely passengers

radios on
heater cranked to ten

everyone yawning with wishes of home
waiting for the lights to change

commanders of stop and go
the sentry lollipops
are shining their beams
that dazzle so bright

like stars that burn my eyes
as only i can see
the mirage of wondrous colours

its funny how the imperfections
in my vision
make the ordinary
extra ordinary
as i am blinded by something
not real
unreal
more than ordinary

glorious illusions
of glittering light
and as i slowly open
and close my eyes
playing with
the beams to elongate
bend and dazzle
red, gold andĀ Ā green
blinking in disbelief
at the traffic lights delight

night falls and dutifully
it carpets the world

from work
to home
from home
to work
from work
to home...

ad infinitum

coming home
at the end of the day
to the aroma of stew
the warmth of love

my key opens the lock to a
temporary freedom

and the so begins the unwinding
of the machines fingers
the hamster wheel stops at the door
and gratitude fills my soul as i walk in
through the real world portal

dogs barking
catsĀ milling
food
laughter
love

yes this...
and only this....

this is a joyous wage
for a job well done
 Jan 8 preston
Sin
Who cries for the little children
When pain and hurt fall upon
The little hearts of purest love
From the hands of the cruel and sick

Who cries for the little children
Locked up and fed a fist
Thrown around the floor like dust
No meals or drink no more

Who cries for the little children
When their voices are so mute
The only thing they know right now
Is life must be extinct

So let them fall into the arms
Of hearts that truly love
In sleep forever they rest now
And tears shall fall no more
 Oct 2023 preston
A W Bullen
Sibila
 Oct 2023 preston
A W Bullen
We'll tell the Keepers
of the gates
that guard our varied heavens

-we weren't engaged in cruel crusades-

we just supplied the weapons-
 Oct 2023 preston
jolly
pillar
 Oct 2023 preston
jolly
"don't look back, you'll turn to stone"
the words i heard driving past my old home
melancholic breeze sending sweet messages to my tachycardia ridden body, a bird that passes through in peace but drops dead like a fly within my smoldering territory
remembering the years I spent inside that home, time that in my fragile state today i'd mistakenly describe as a respite from my current place
but as I sink into my seat, the sobering reality that I am the same motionless vessel that I was then begins to set in
the labyrinth I could not escape still pervades my every waking moment
the days I coped with promises to myself, from a wealth of unearned confidence that has long since run dry
the only difference between them and me being the destiny I coaxed myself into believing at seventeen

i am a worthless pillar of salt

cursed from the moment a devil pointed his finger at something behind me
https://www.joydiv.org/images/stal7b.jpg
 Sep 2023 preston
jolly
succumbing
 Sep 2023 preston
jolly
i wish death was as sweet as when it's romanticized
i wish you could **** me
in a way that feels like i am sleeping
i'd curl up in the comfort of your poison ivy arms
until i am so weak
and i could finally go easily
but my life is filled with bloodshot, hungry, swollen eyes
that stare right into me
and contemplate my very breathing
though i just don't care to see them
and they mean nothing to me
those same eyes that did condemn me to a life devoid of sleep
now depend on the conditions they allĀ Ā imposed onto me
to hold steady and not subject them
to the trauma of my absence
it's the only thing hindering me from succumbing to this fractured spine that i exist with
even quicker than i will eventually
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