Crackle crackle

Break and

Pop

Smoke and

Bleed

Those grey

Exhales

You

Cruel

Cruel

Mother

Strong

Strong

Father
­
Brave

Brave

Sister

Dance that

Wicked dance

Of

Yours

Maybe I'll

Dance to.

Let me hear that

Red

Red

Rythym

And that

Black

Black

Tune

Maybe I'll sing

To

Speak those

Old

Old

ancient

Stories

Poems

Sagas

And

Maybe

Maybe

I'll speak those

Old

Old

Words

With you

Wooden bodies
Rough and scarcely
Hewn
Features from a nightmare
Or a dream?
What's the difference?

Coils of wire
Cold and grey
Shimmering with dew
Crackling with electricity

Raindrop footsteps
Wind rustling laughs
Anger like the spark of a plug

Swaying
Swaying
Swaying
To soundless music
Or not.
Soundless to me and you
Melodious to them
Those fence goblins
Gremlins of the hedges

Wood and wire
Earth and sky

Those fence goblins.

Everyone is always

Saying

What a

Beutiful

Sunset

What a

Magnificent

Beutiful

Sight

But don't forget

That monsters can

Be beutiful

That war can

Be magnificent

And yet a sunset

It is still

Pretty

Pleasing

Romantic

Idealic

Such a soft sight

Such a little snippet of

Gentle

Kind

And it is

All those beutiful

Things

But it is also

Death

It is also

Darkness

A darkness on that light

For, why treat the

Herald

Of a

Tyrant

Like a

Queen

But

And yet

We make an exception

(The humans we are)

An exception for this

Beutiful

Magnificent sight

As it bleeds

As it cries

Tears of

Cloud

Just another

Casualtie

Of night

Pinks like watered

Blood

Oranges like

Funeral pieces

Such morbid

Similies

Such violent

Metaphors

For such a

Beutiful

Magnificent

Terrible

Sight.

Things

Cold

Dark

Lonely

Black

Dieing

Dieing

Dieing

Hope.

The final words

Of a poet

His

Rasping

Breaths

Hacking out

Words

Words like blood splattered flowers

What does he say in those

Final

Moments

What

Beutiful

Violent

Things?

The answer

Why, it just behind that

Dark

Dark

Horizon.

Numbing fingers
Icey wind
Soft caressing
Clinking keys

Blinding sun
Illuminating light
Glows inside and out
Blades of grass
Buttercups
Feilds hedged
Forests

Silence
Noise
Music
Pulsing strings
Rising with
The words
Weaving those poems
Those stories itself

Blank screen
Again and again
Black shaped
Dark sguiggles
Sketches for a great cathedral
Will they make sense?
We, no I
I, no we
Wondering all the same

Wind
Sun
Music

Conducters of a one girl orchestra

Bow before me

Go on

It's your place

Your

Destiny

Who are you waiting

For?

Bow!


Kneel

Before me

Go on

It's where you

Belong

Where you are

Meant to

Be

Who are you waiting

For?

Kneel!



No I will

Not

I will

Never

I will die

Before I

Bow

Before I

Kneel

Because me

Because I

We

Are waiting

Waiting just

Waiting

For

My

Our

Hero

To be

Forged

So go on,

Light those

Fires

Strike those

Anvils

Your only

Helping

Me

Us

To forge a

Hero.

There is a time

When

Time

It means

Nothing.

When nomatter

Who

What

When

You are simply a

Moment

In a

Storm

The off beat

Just before

Just before

It roars

It's earsplitting

Heart bursting

Ocean taming

Roar.

And those

Blues

Those

Greys

Those

Whites and yellows

They are there

They are

That moment

That second

Just before

Forever held

In that moment

That moment before

The quiet before the storm.

There once was a girl who

Hoped

Who dreamt

But it was not meant to be

Because the

Stars

They'de

Spoken

Sung

Written

Their ancient

Songs

Poems

Stories

And it was not meant to be.

Those cruel

Cruel

Lights

Had shone their

Torches

And found a

Different

Way.

So the girl

When she looked up

And saw no comfort

No truth

No love

In those cruel

Cruel

Lights.

Who had decided that

It was not meant to be

Because

Who was she

To try and write her own

Destiny

Who was she

That stupid

Naive

Little girl

Who was once foolish enough hope.