im so far down
i have nothing to say
no words to be found
i hear bells
and i see the ticking clock
but i am so far down
i reach for nothing
for there is nothing there
instead i listen to the chimes
and watch the clock tick down

Without sinking through the spheres. Hymns betting, still hands crisp under the wings. The wind slumbering, stays in the dark spaces. Eleven invisible pages, over. Any other name- Lux Arabesque, Uuqui Haratas, Preset: 117, and the foil.

The mirrored valley’s strangest flora, sifts the decorated thriving trails. Then it can all become an infinite weave in this world where lazy whistling sand dunes beyond, claim the rights to a juried Spring. Then somehow it may recant this glorious history we’ve only barely known. The potent eyes starved by madness, waxes seas and radio fields, slimming the loops that rip into  hinges and dispel a tryst.

Toward Earth’s serene prelude, this pageantry of standard masks make ascending towers just and stately. Then come the planets we’ve always loved: Mars, Neptune, and Jupiter too. Barefoot and staggering through the modern coolness of a colossal spring, aching mental itching grows. Until the fruits have fallen into the cloven shadows. Until buried stones alit with day consecrate these omens and conceive such lucid strings to break these quiet thieves into song.

Then the diary belies this affair. The steins upset the tales where pungent fleshy working minds coalesce. Observe the horses play in their endings, upon the wild mountain rivers where felling human eyes wander amidst these cleaved and sun-drenched desert mounds.

Pt. II

In origins uplifting diets foretell the escaped  seams of darkness whose lofty tongues of nature’s prose lift the veiled hours’ wraith. Never pressing bells nor raked by shivers, it occurs swiftly should the marbled rushing master call. Above the sound of narrow whispers, comes the wishing hands to shout.

My mother likes to hang bells
On the front door,
And I always wondered
What they were for.

They would jingle
Whenever someone
made entry,
and glitter
With the light
from the lamppost
On the street.

But they became dull
Hanging all day,
And the giggling clatter
Mulled and dulled
to a brassy bray.

Mom has a small wedding bell
Of a silver boy
Holding flowers
With a smiling grin.
He’s asking her to ring him
And bring back memories.

But father’s guitar glistens
Whilst the sun lays low.
With one pluck
The vibration hums
Smooth and mellow.

But can you hear it
Sitting on the steps?
This house is so large
But there still lays unrest.

And through The corridor
Clacks the patter
Of greyed canine feet.
But some of us
Lay silent
And reap the past
From the sounds
That do dare speak.

the living room clock
Drones with That of a distant chime,
Because the living arrangements
Have changed overtime.

Jack and Jill,
Went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water,
Nobody knows what they did up there,
They came back with a baby daughter.
They named the daughter Mary.
Mary had chubby cheeks,
Dimple chin,no teeth within,
Rosy lips,
Curly hair, very fair,
Eyes were blue,lovely too.
One day Mary went to play on the slide,
Georgie Porgi pudding and a pie,
Kissed Mary and made her cry,
When Jack and Jill came out to see Mary play,
Georgie Porgi ran away.
Mary had a friend called Johny,
He was handsome and Bonny,
Mary Mary,
Yes papa,
Loving Johnny,
No papa,
Open your heart,
Ha! Ha! Ha!.
But, Johnny said,
"Lavenders blue,Mary, Mary,
Lavenders green,
When I am King Mary, Mary,
You shall be  queen."
Papa Jack and mama Jill asked,
Mary ,Mary quite contrary,
We have a querry,
How does your heart grow,
With wedding bells and many heart throbs,
Not now, Mary  sobs.
One day, Johnny proposed,
Mary, Mary,
I'm crazy,
All for the love of you.
It won't be a stylish wedding,
I can't afford a Lamborghini,
But, if a stylish scooter for two,
Will do.
Soon, Mary had a little boy, a little boy,
It's skin was white as snow
It followed her to work one day,
He made her friends laugh and say, laugh and say,
"Mary, what a bonny lass you have.

I screamed at the top of my lungs
My body was on the pavement, strung
Out deeper than the night, skies
Are filled with stars as he dies.

He was part of me, all that's left.
I'm now a body of bones here bereft.
I scream, I scream, I screamed.
No blood left, my soul upwards beamed.

Bells chime...
Le désordre c'est moi.
I come to die...
Je sonnes les cloches...
I'm taking you all with me.

Is it strange?
I hear different sounds,
paletts, colours,
I'm music bound.

Is it strange?
I can't sleep very well
hearing notes, tones,
imagining bells.

Is it strange?
The bells ring loudly
they never stop
they deafen me proudly.

Is it strange?
Seeing you everynight
whilst I work on the balcony,
I can feel your soft glance.

the rawness of your words
still rings in my heart
like ceremonial temple bells
tolling,
with each wave reverberating,
the sound jarring, your eyes darting,
the guilt evaporating out of your breath,
as I stood before you, half-dead,
because your words are toxic and your breath was too,
I didn't realise I was being poisoned by you.

spearing through the memories,
tearing up the past, the seconds spent together
all those fluttery heartbeats, a total farce.

the bells still ringing,
drowning out my heart,
sweeping out the love,
and draining all my thoughts
as you utter each word,
I try to soar like a bird,
to seek my freedom, to escape from your curse,
but from a hundred miles afar, I can still hear your voice. I want to leave this world now, because I don't have a choice...