Little Birds are dining
Warily and well,
Hid in mossy cell:
Hid, I say, by waiters
Gorgeous in their gaiters -
I've a Tale to tell.

Little Birds are feeding
Justices with jam,
Rich in frizzled ham:
Rich, I say, in oysters
Haunting shady cloisters -
That is what I am.

Little Birds are teaching
Tigresses to smile,
Innocent of guile:
Smile, I say, not smirkle -
Mouth a semicircle,
That's the proper style!

Little Birds are sleeping
All among the pins,
Where the loser wins:
Where, I say, he sneezes
When and how he pleases -
So the Tale begins.

Little Birds are writing
Interesting books,
To be read by cooks:
Read, I say, not roasted -
Letterpress, when toasted,
Loses its good looks.

Little Birds are playing
Bagpipes on the shore,
Where the tourists snore:
"Thanks!" they cry. "'Tis thrilling!
Take, oh take this shilling!
Let us have no more!"

Little Birds are bathing
Crocodiles in cream,
Like a happy dream:
Like, but not so lasting -
Crocodiles, when fasting,
Are not all they seem!

Little Birds are choking
Baronets with bun,
Taught to fire a gun:
Taught, I say, to splinter
Salmon in the winter -
Merely for the fun.

Little Birds are hiding
Crimes in carpet-bags,
Blessed by happy stags:
Blessed, I say, though beaten -
Since our friends are eaten
When the memory flags.

Little Birds are tasting
Gratitude and gold,
Pale with sudden cold:
Pale, I say, and wrinkled -
When the bells have tinkled,
And the Tale is told.

PROLOGUE

Umpteen billion years
Big Bang, supernova, gas
Brief eclipse of time

Gases swirling, fall
Sun and planets, water, goo
Brief eclipse of time

Another billion
life, amoeba, fishes swim
Brief eclipse of time

Movement, change and flux
slither, crawl, climb, walk and talk
Brief eclipse of time

Ra, Sol, Helios,
Mithra and the Mighty Eye
Brief eclipse of time

Life begins and ends
birth, joy, laugh, cry, death, and dust
Brief eclipse of time

Waves cleave seas, shores, skies
forever folding, pulsing
Brief eclipse of time


            CHRONICLE

The Mighty Eye begins to slip and slowly sink,
(unfocused, stained, diffuse)
while frizzled waves imbibe her searing tears,
with salted languid lips.

The Mighty Eye, now weary, thin,
is gazing through the frozen cracks,
as sundry straying clouds,
bloated,
sidle feebly by
and wax their billowed tracks
upon the heated sky,
and cool the rush of rolling waves
beneath the blotted sky.

The waves
(impaled on time and space inside me),
gently tumbling aging pebbles
and lifeless shells across the shifting sands,
seem unaware
as they once again arise
to greet the Mighty Eye,
to close the Mighty Eye,
to ***** the Mighty Eye.

But then again,
perhaps the waves are well aware indeed,
yet simply unconcerned
and feel no need to care.

For, as the frazzled froth is rushing forward
madly towards the sandy shores beyond,
before retreating slowly,
then careening brashly forth ahead again,
eternally,
it matters little if the Mighty Eye will cast
her blazing glance from high above,
or else retire for the night,
kissed sweetly by the liquid lips
of distant faithless waves
in a brief eclipse of time.

The trees, they hang in time and space around me –
trees, which in time before had swayed,
so gently tugged by ocean breezes,
trees, which in time before were lightly lit
with emerald tinted leaves,
trees, which in time before had reached to space above
with twisted tangled fingers,
grasping fingers,
fingers drenched with golden tears
shed by the Mighty Eye.

The trees, they hang in space and time,
benumbed and frozen motionless around me
chilled with rooted premonitions of the void,
their branches clutching darkness  
and their leaves foreboding doom.

The muted winds begin to whisper tales
of many frightened things,
which, with mournful apprehension
have hunkered down behind the haze
and ceased their joyful play.

And all the while dank shadows gaily dance
a dismal dance,
for their time is soon to come.

The fitful shore lies suddenly still.

Unfeeling stones and hollow shells,
are paused a little,
stalled,
and dropped haphazardly,
midst their mindless random journey,
now abandoned by the sea,

for fickle waves have slipped away
to greet a falling prey.

And as the Mighty Eye droops lower,
laminated molten lips
are pursed and pucker higher,
******* in the sky.

Within a trice the Mighty Eye
submits and squints, distended red,
perhaps tormented by fantastic thoughts
of imminent demise,
or else of being lashed beneath a lid
of distant faithless waves.

And as her dying flash dissolves,
two lurid lips arise,
three ***** lips -
a thousand parted limpid lips
which asudden,
though with little haste,
consume the Mighty Eye.

                   EPILOGUE**

The trees are now but lurking shades
amongst the murky shadows.

Relentless fog slips slowly by -
her floating tongues drip silence
as they slink like snakes in stealth nearby.

The lacerated faithless lips have once again returned
to kiss the vacant vapid shores
in a brief eclipse of time.

Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine
Following, above the Olympian hill I soar,
Above the flight of Pegasean wing!
The meaning, not the name, I call: for thou
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top
Of old Olympus dwellest; but, heavenly-born,
Before the hills appeared, or fountain flowed,
Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse,
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play
In presence of the Almighty Father, pleased
With thy celestial song.  Up led by thee
Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air,
Thy tempering: with like safety guided down
Return me to my native element:
Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once
Bellerophon, though from a lower clime,)
Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall,
Erroneous there to wander, and forlorn.
Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound
Within the visible diurnal sphere;
Standing on earth, not rapt above the pole,
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged
To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues;
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou
Visitest my slumbers nightly, or when morn
Purples the east: still govern thou my song,
Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
But drive far off the barbarous dissonance
Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race
Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears
To rapture, till the savage clamour drowned
Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend
Her son.  So fail not thou, who thee implores:
For thou art heavenly, she an empty dream.
Say, Goddess, what ensued when Raphael,
The affable Arch-Angel, had forewarned
Adam, by dire example, to beware
Apostasy, by what befel in Heaven
To those apostates; lest the like befall
In Paradise to Adam or his race,
Charged not to touch the interdicted tree,
If they transgress, and slight that sole command,
So easily obeyed amid the choice
Of all tastes else to please their appetite,
Though wandering.  He, with his consorted Eve,
The story heard attentive, and was filled
With admiration and deep muse, to hear
Of things so high and strange; things, to their thought
So unimaginable, as hate in Heaven,
And war so near the peace of God in bliss,
With such confusion: but the evil, soon
Driven back, redounded as a flood on those
From whom it sprung; impossible to mix
With blessedness.  Whence Adam soon repealed
The doubts that in his heart arose: and now
Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know
What nearer might concern him, how this world
Of Heaven and Earth conspicuous first began;
When, and whereof created; for what cause;
What within Eden, or without, was done
Before his memory; as one whose drouth
Yet scarce allayed still eyes the current stream,
Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites,
Proceeded thus to ask his heavenly guest.
Great things, and full of wonder in our ears,
Far differing from this world, thou hast revealed,
Divine interpreter! by favour sent
Down from the empyrean, to forewarn
Us timely of what might else have been our loss,
Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach;
For which to the infinitely Good we owe
Immortal thanks, and his admonishment
Receive, with solemn purpose to observe
Immutably his sovran will, the end
Of what we are.  But since thou hast vouchsafed
Gently, for our instruction, to impart
Things above earthly thought, which yet concerned
Our knowing, as to highest wisdom seemed,
Deign to descend now lower, and relate
What may no less perhaps avail us known,
How first began this Heaven which we behold
Distant so high, with moving fires adorned
Innumerable; and this which yields or fills
All space, the ambient air wide interfused
Embracing round this floried Earth; what cause
Moved the Creator, in his holy rest
Through all eternity, so late to build
In Chaos; and the work begun, how soon
Absolved; if unforbid thou mayest unfold
What we, not to explore the secrets ask
Of his eternal empire, but the more
To magnify his works, the more we know.
And the great light of day yet wants to run
Much of his race though steep; suspense in Heaven,
Held by thy voice, thy potent voice, he hears,
And longer will delay to hear thee tell
His generation, and the rising birth
Of Nature from the unapparent Deep:
Or if the star of evening and the moon
Haste to thy audience, Night with her will bring,
Silence; and Sleep, listening to thee, will watch;
Or we can bid his absence, till thy song
End, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine.
Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought:
And thus the Godlike Angel answered mild.
This also thy request, with caution asked,
Obtain; though to recount almighty works
What words or tongue of Seraph can suffice,
Or heart of man suffice to comprehend?
Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve
To glorify the Maker, and infer
Thee also happier, shall not be withheld
Thy hearing; such commission from above
I have received, to answer thy desire
Of knowledge within bounds; beyond, abstain
To ask; nor let thine own inventions hope
Things not revealed, which the invisible King,
Only Omniscient, hath suppressed in night;
To none communicable in Earth or Heaven:
Enough is left besides to search and know.
But knowledge is as food, and needs no less
Her temperance over appetite, to know
In measure what the mind may well contain;
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns
Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind.
Know then, that, after Lucifer from Heaven
(So call him, brighter once amidst the host
Of Angels, than that star the stars among,)
Fell with his flaming legions through the deep
Into his place, and the great Son returned
Victorious with his Saints, the Omnipotent
Eternal Father from his throne beheld
Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake.
At least our envious Foe hath failed, who thought
All like himself rebellious, by whose aid
This inaccessible high strength, the seat
Of Deity supreme, us dispossessed,
He trusted to have seised, and into fraud
Drew many, whom their place knows here no more:
Yet far the greater part have kept, I see,
Their station; Heaven, yet populous, retains
Number sufficient to possess her realms
Though wide, and this high temple to frequent
With ministeries due, and solemn rites:
But, lest his heart exalt him in the harm
Already done, to have dispeopled Heaven,
My damage fondly deemed, I can repair
That detriment, if such it be to lose
Self-lost; and in a moment will create
Another world, out of one man a race
Of men innumerable, there to dwell,
Not here; till, by degrees of merit raised,
They open to themselves at length the way
Up hither, under long obedience tried;
And Earth be changed to Heaven, and Heaven to Earth,
One kingdom, joy and union without end.
Mean while inhabit lax, ye Powers of Heaven;
And thou my Word, begotten Son, by thee
This I perform; speak thou, and be it done!
My overshadowing Spirit and Might with thee
I send along; ride forth, and bid the Deep
Within appointed bounds be Heaven and Earth;
Boundless the Deep, because I Am who fill
Infinitude, nor vacuous the space.
Though I, uncircumscribed myself, retire,
And put not forth my goodness, which is free
To act or not, Necessity and Chance
Approach not me, and what I will is Fate.
So spake the Almighty, and to what he spake
His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect.
Immediate are the acts of God, more swift
Than time or motion, but to human ears
Cannot without process of speech be told,
So told as earthly notion can receive.
Great triumph and rejoicing was in Heaven,
When such was heard declared the Almighty’s will;
Glory they sung to the Most High, good will
To future men, and in their dwellings peace;
Glory to Him, whose just avenging ire
Had driven out the ungodly from his sight
And the habitations of the just; to Him
Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordained
Good out of evil to create; instead
Of Spirits malign, a better race to bring
Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse
His good to worlds and ages infinite.
So sang the Hierarchies:  Mean while the Son
On his great expedition now appeared,
Girt with Omnipotence, with radiance crowned
Of Majesty Divine; sapience and love
Immense, and all his Father in him shone.
About his chariot numberless were poured
Cherub, and Seraph, Potentates, and Thrones,
And Virtues, winged Spirits, and chariots winged
From the armoury of God; where stand of old
Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodged
Against a solemn day, harnessed at hand,
Celestial equipage; and now came forth
Spontaneous, for within them Spirit lived,
Attendant on their Lord:  Heaven opened wide
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound
On golden hinges moving, to let forth
The King of Glory, in his powerful Word
And Spirit, coming to create new worlds.
On heavenly ground they stood; and from the shore
They viewed the vast immeasurable abyss
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild,
Up from the bottom turned by furious winds
And surging waves, as mountains, to assault
Heaven’s highth, and with the center mix the pole.
Silence, ye troubled Waves, and thou Deep, peace,
Said then the Omnifick Word; your discord end!
Nor staid; but, on the wings of Cherubim
Uplifted, in paternal glory rode
Far into Chaos, and the world unborn;
For Chaos heard his voice:  Him all his train
Followed in bright procession, to behold
Creation, and the wonders of his might.
Then staid the fervid wheels, and in his hand
He took the golden compasses, prepared
In God’s eternal store, to circumscribe
This universe, and all created things:
One foot he centered, and the other turned
Round through the vast profundity obscure;
And said, Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds,
This be thy just circumference, O World!
Thus God the Heaven created, thus the Earth,
Matter unformed and void:  Darkness profound
Covered the abyss: but on the watery calm
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread,
And vital virtue infused, and vital warmth
Throughout the fluid mass; but downward purged
The black tartareous cold infernal dregs,
Adverse to life: then founded, then conglobed
Like things to like; the rest to several place
Disparted, and between spun out the air;
And Earth self-balanced on her center hung.
Let there be light, said God; and forthwith Light
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure,
Sprung from the deep; and from her native east
To journey through the aery gloom began,
Sphered in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun
Was not; she in a cloudy tabernacle
Sojourned the while.  God saw the light was good;
And light from darkness by the hemisphere
Divided: light the Day, and darkness Night,
He named.  Thus was the first day even and morn:
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung
By the celestial quires, when orient light
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld;
Birth-day of Heaven and Earth; with joy and shout
The hollow universal orb they filled,
And touched their golden harps, and hymning praised
God and his works; Creator him they sung,
Both when first evening was, and when first morn.
Again, God said,  Let there be firmament
Amid the waters, and let it divide
The waters from the waters; and God made
The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure,
Transparent, elemental air, diffused
In circuit to the uttermost convex
Of this great round; partition firm and sure,
The waters underneath from those above
Dividing: for as earth, so he the world
Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide
Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule
Of Chaos far removed; lest fierce extremes
Contiguous might distemper the whole frame:
And Heaven he named the Firmament:  So even
And morning chorus sung the second day.
The Earth was formed, but in the womb as yet
Of waters, embryon immature involved,
Appeared not: over all the face of Earth
Main ocean flowed, not idle; but, with warm
Prolifick humour softening all her globe,
Fermented the great mother to conceive,
Satiate with genial moisture; when God said,
Be gathered now ye waters under Heaven
Into one place, and let dry land appear.
Immediately the mountains huge appear
Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave
Into the clouds; their tops ascend the sky:
So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low
Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep,
Capacious bed of waters:  Thither they
Hasted with glad precipitance, uprolled,
As drops on dust conglobing from the dry:
Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct,
For haste; such flight the great command impressed
On the swift floods:  As armies at the call
Of trumpet (for of armies thou hast heard)
Troop to their standard; so the watery throng,
Wave rolling after wave, where way they found,
If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain,
Soft-ebbing; nor withstood them rock or hill;
But they, or under ground, or circuit wide
With serpent errour wandering, found their way,
And on the washy oose deep channels wore;
Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry,
All but within those banks, where rivers now
Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train.
The dry land, Earth; and the great receptacle
Of congregated waters, he called Seas:
And saw that it was good; and said, Let the Earth
Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed,
And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind,
Whose seed is in herself upon the Earth.
He scarce had said, when the bare Earth, till then
Desart and bare, unsightly, unadorned,
Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad
Her universal face with pleasant green;
Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flowered
Opening their various colours, and made gay
Her *****, smelling sweet: and, these scarce blown,
Forth flourished thick the clustering vine, forth crept
The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed
Embattled in her field, and the humble shrub,
And bush with frizzled hair implicit:  Last
Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread
Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemmed
Their blossoms:  With high woods the hills were crowned;
With tufts the valleys, and each fountain side;
With borders long the rivers: that Earth now
Seemed like to Heaven, a seat where Gods might dwell,
Or wander with delight, and love to haunt
Her sacred shades: though God had yet not rained
Upon the Earth, and man to till the ground
None was; but from the Earth a dewy mist
Went up, and watered all the ground, and each
Plant of the field; which, ere it was in the Earth,
God made, and every herb, before it grew
On the green stem:  God saw that it was good:
So even and morn recorded the third day.
Again the Almighty spake, Let there be lights
High in the expanse of Heaven, to divide
The day from night; and let them be for signs,
For seasons, and for days, and circling years;
And let them be for lights, as I ordain
Their office in the firmament of Heaven,
To give light on the Earth; and it was so.
And God made two great lights, great for their use
To Man, the greater to have rule by day,
The less by night, altern; and made the stars,
And set them in the firmament of Heaven
To illuminate the Earth, and rule the day
In their vicissitude, and rule the night,
And light from darkness to divide.  God saw,
Surveying his great work, that it was good:
For of celestial bodies first the sun
A mighty sphere he framed, unlightsome first,
Though of ethereal mould: then formed the moon
Globose, and every magnitude of stars,
And sowed with stars the Heaven, thick as a field:
Of light by far the greater part he took,
Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placed
In the sun’s orb, made porous to receive
And drink the liquid light; firm to retain
Her gathered beams, great palace now of light.
Hither, as to their fountain, other stars
Repairing, in their golden urns draw light,
And hence the morning-planet gilds her horns;
By tincture or reflection they augment
Their small peculiar, though from human sight
So far rem

for the karens of the street.
The karens of the world,
you ruin out the people's peace.
Your hair is frizzled like a you got electrocuted,
your feet smell like vinegar and your ******* smells like ****,
but wait, not the one at the bottom, yet the one at the top right in front of your lips, that's right it's your mouth and all i ever see from it is the garbage that comes out.
So please kindly would you do,
shut your ******* trap,
everyone will be happier when you're out
with a clap!
Hurray, hurray,
the karens are out,
But wait, here they are coming back again,
to see what's in store for them once more.
Pitches and forks and all things that stork the time between
a karen and the normal people who just want to live free.
*******, *******

"That's it! I'll take it to the scissors myself!"
Mangled, wrangled, tangled mess,
meandering tendrils coil and cross, clump.

Split ends,
knots so impossibly tied the eagle scout is left bewildered,
sun damage: fried, frizzled, frazzled, frayed.

Broken teeth in a gasping comb,
choking brushes enveloped in the furling mess,
hairspray, fruitless, face it:
(Another) Bad Hair Day.

"That's it! Today's the day!"
The call is made, the appointment scheduled,
you sit and wait.

X's mark the calendar, the day is nigh,
your do's judgement day is at hand.
It's time to settle this.

The day before, you wake up,
absentmindedly getting dressed, drudging through routine,
mirror's the last thing you see.

Crusty eyes suddenly open wide,
as split ends seal and knots unfurl,
sun damage heals and combs sing ceaselessly.

The day is met with a new life,
and the dark days of yore seem like a past life,
as this sunny day seems like all there is.

You laugh at what now appears to be such trivialities,
"Twas a bad hair day! And merely so!"
You allow yourself such a shallow deception.

Your hand grabs the phone, your fingers make the call,
your voice makes the cancellation--
"How could I have been so foolish to resort to such measures?!"

You hang up and scoff at yourself,
a hearty laugh in jest at such hastiness,
tossing and swishing your luscious mane to and fro.

You allow it to slip through your fingers,
on the cusp of the cure,
as the bad hair days truly outnumber the good (you know it to be so).

For the next day will come--
You'll greet the mirror with that heart-wrenching sigh,
in visible anguish at the chaotic mess that encroaches upon your head.

          Don't let a good hair day fool you;
                                                        make the call.

The milk man died last week.  I didn't
know him well, just enough to know his favorite
chew and how much he hated Fritos.

I knew his lover and her worn-out
windbreaker, her frizzled hair as gold
as her Marlboros.  I sold her a pack of silvers

once and she nearly snapped my neck.
They take (took?) their tobacco dead
seriously.  She hasn't come back

to work yet, though her five allotted
days of grief are over.  The empty
milk crates just aren't empty anymore.

A half hour gone. A half hour away. A half hour leaving me to sit some more. A half hour of thinking. A half hour of contemplating. A half hour of wondering and wishing. A half hour of listening. A half hour of talking. A half hour of going insane.
I sit and I think and I wonder and I contemplate. I sit up and slouch down and even turn around. I moan, I groan, I rack my brain. So many questions but only one answer, am I really going insane?
I thought I knew the answer, thought I knew it well. I figured this would be a breeze, but it turned out to be a near living hell. This desk is so bland and boring. Nothing but a sheet of paper and a raw chewed up pencil. Wait a minute, somethings missing! O yea, the eraser fell on the floor last time I moved.
Should I pick it up? Nah, what's there to erase? I haven't written much. A few scribbles here and there, nothing I need to touch.
I glance around the eerily quiet room with a tired sigh. A voice says, 'Shut up!' and I do my best to comply.
As turn to face the horrible paper again my eyes catch the old grandfather clock. Another half hour before the horrible song.
I'm tired and bored; what am I doing this for? I stand up to walk away. It's not that simple.
'What are you doing?'
'I'll be on my way.'
'Sit down! I think you'll find it best to stay.'
The voice is commanding and intimidating some how.
So I sit. And continue to look around.
It's all one color, this grotesque little room. A stark white, with nothing on the walls or ceiling. Look up, look down, look all around, nothing but the color of snow.
The few others in the room slowly begin to move. They stand and slump towards a certain corner of the ugly space. One, two, three, and four...there aren't anymore.
Save for me; the fifth; the odd one out. Left sitting here to pout.
'Can I leave?'
'Oh no. Stay till your finished, then it will be time to go.'
What an odd person.
I finally see them now, the source of the voice. With frizzled Grey hair and a large poofy mustache. Their eyebrows are really thick too...kind of scary...like someone who would go boo.
They're staring at me intently. Why not? I'm the only one in the room.
What do they want me to do? Oh right, the paper, woohoo.
I glance back at the clock, about a quarter to. Fifteen more minutes, before the awful thing goes coo.
You'd almost think I'm crazy, not knowing where I am, but I start to wonder how I got here, and where my story began. Why am I afraid of the clock, or this creepy old man? I stand up once again.
'SIT DOWN!'
Oh right, that's why.
But how'd this start? Where did my story begin? Furthermore, how did it lead here, to this place where I can't win?
I look back at the paper, covered in scribbles, but just that, no letters. Or maybe they are, I just am unable to read.
My heart starts to beat; what happened to me? Am I really going crazy, or perhaps just insane?
I try to make out the words, but I try in vain: I'm stuck in this room, unable to leave. I can't finish the paper, because I can't read. Maybe I can write, but turns out I can't even draw.
The man just keeps staring, boring through me like a drill. I'm a piece of dumb wood, stuck in wood hell. I look around once more, at the clock I so dread. One more minute, and then I'll be dead.
How do I know? What makes me so sure? If I know not how I came here, how do I know where I go?
Something is telling me. It's that man in the corner. He must be controlling me, having some kind of order.
I stand up again. This time with valor. That man wants to **** me, and he's been waiting half an hour.
But as I get up, he makes a move too. The clock has now struck, and the crowd is yelling boo.
There's a crowd? Come from where?
'No where really, they're suddenly...just there.' says the man
'How do you know?'
'I just do' he replies
'Fair enough I suppose.'
We're both standing now, with weapons in hand. I've a sharp pencil, and he a hot brand.
He won't try to **** me, he'll make me his own. Some kind of slave I guess, depressed and alone. I lunge and he moves, swinging at me with a fist full of rage.
He seemed so calm a moment ago, but now a new person all his own.
I trip and I fall, but I don't hit the ground. I just keep going through nothing. No sights, and no sound.
It's all white you see, the walls, and the floor, and the ceiling above me.
But were they ever even there? Who knows? I don't care.
I look back up to see the man there, far away with his desk and his chair.
He's still holding his iron, looking down upon me. What world am I in, that fills me with such glee?
I have not a care as I continue to float--for that's what it is. There is no air rushing past me and no ground to hit. I'll stay here forever I suppose, alone but free. Better than being held in captivity.
How did I know he would take me a slave? Perhaps he was helping me, or trying to be brave.
I'll never know though, because he is long gone. I'll just float here forever, looking on and on.
Someday I may meet another, one as fortunate as me. To have left the cruel world and come soaring through the breeze.
But until then I'll just float, forever and ever, here in my happy boat.

All we are,
delightfully lost.
Is that all it is?
Heading feet-first into sunsets.
Whirlwinds.
We crash, grab,
forget to blink,
rely on breath alone.
Here words tumble in a torrent,
recycle in your mouth
and back out again.
Clichés cannot die.
On a loop,
a worn-down yo-yo.
I roll them out for you
on a goldenrod carpet,
you skip across them
as though they are red-hot coals.

What set you off
like a sparkler in the night?
The sea brings us love,
vice versa.
Waves like mounds of sugar
embrace your torso
in a way I can only dream of.
Camera exhausted
under the weight of today,
puddles of polaroids,
enough to smother the floor.
I smell snapdragons,
candy fizzing
on both of our tongues.
Soaked.

Fade to black.
Your language
is blossom
slinking into my ears.
Wet sand
slips in a mustard waterfall
through our fingers
and I trip over my T’s and P’s.
I’ll keep your smile
locked in my pocket
for black-cloud days.

A triplet of cartwheels,
sticky palms
and panting as if
you’ve run a marathon.
Give it a go…
I try and collapse,
a soppy sprawled mess
gawping at the sky,
before blue eyes
smash into mine
and I fall again.
Dripping.

In-between seconds.
Flaccid strands of hair,
frizzled spaghetti
clings to your neck.
The blonde grenade
I keep writing,
cannot control
but adore to see explode,
catch the thirteen
or more little fragments
of you,
keep them ‘til next time.

When you leave
I can follow your footprints,
mementos back home,
tread where you stood
and exuded light.
We sit cross-legged,
water dribbling over our toes.
I memorise your heartbeat,
you plonk your head
on my shoulder.
Minutes wash away.
Stop the clock.

'mongst teddy bear shaped clouds,
and with friend whose eyes are as amber as honey sickles,
the sky melts sugar milk,
and whispers bubbles of candy cotton!
for the twilight knew much of the Wonderer.

with hopping rabbit bunnies,
and boxes with a fellow named jack inside,
the puppy-eyed child learned of many names,
and knew of many creatures--
O! have you heard of the bunna-easant?
the child would love of you to learn lots about it!

it seemed the Lord had blessed this young,
with naive heart and brave mind,
for you'd have to drink gallons of melted butter,
to be as sweet as he.

old nightmares beg for sips of the Wonderer's dove wings,
for the child knew of no such thing.
'what are mares of the night?' those eyes glistened toward the faeries,
with 3 sharp "ha"'s, they lean in and whisper,
'stay in your cradle, my young,' they'd wave their lolly finger,
'for there're no such things as those.'

for the white candy cotton was a favorite of the child,
same hue as the glowing deity he worshiped,
and brought the bouncing child through the embers of the day,
to hush the child to midnight play.

for time was awfully kind to this young,
as it pushes the child's golden swing,
following the young's silver eyes,
as they twitch with hunger,
at the appearance of the new critters it drew.

as cherry mermaids flicked the child through hearts of jelly,
and the fish from Stockholm 'plashed through chocolate lanes,
the Wonderer's taffy hair grew lengths,
and body took its outfit and changed!

the child basked--astonished!--and jumped from the tails,
leaving the mermaids and fish staring at one another,
with questionable marks and exclamatory minds,
'did we just lose our Wonderer?'

in shock, the deity's hair ruled short,
and no longer kissed the face of the 'Wonderer',
and bags filled blue light 'neath its eyes,
and rust reigned miles over the kingdom of orbs.

and the canvas had a streak of black,
'long its body,
and dried it lay,
unfinished of what was started.

for when the 'Wonderer' did decide to crawl 'neath silken shield,
and the deity's hair grew,
toss and turn, and turn and toss, the child did,
and the hair frizzled at tinted noon.

for in the Wonderer's brain,
an old horse awaits him,
with mane as black as goo,
and eyes as fierce as sandstorm,
the old horse awaits him,
and takes gallons from his wings.

and the teddy bear clouds turned to cotton,
and the fish melted by the amber,
and mermaids collapsed to bone,
and the golden gate said 'keep out, don't enter.'

for the bunna-easants had long since migrated,
and the sky turned a scared octopus,
for the candy bubbles had quieted,
and the child hung its youth.

but the Wonderer had long forgotten of his favorite candy,
and knew wonders of the mares of the night,
at cubic, he sits as blue light spills from bronzed eyes,
with the caffeine shots he jolts...


and the mares kiss him good-night.

I would rather
be a
wanderer
a belongerer
to no body
to no country
a loose end

​
than to bob
eagerly
at every tug
of the yarn's
end
whose
wound-up
mass
amasses me
a wriggled up
ball of
wriggles
​

I would rather
be alone
than
scooped up
in a basket
with others
of my
supposed
ilk
and held in
by the
over-under
wicker
edges
domed up
for containment
​

ominous
clicks and
scrapes
of my
destiny
clattering
and chattering
above
​

fraying
frizzled
frazzled bits
smoothing out
as my length
is tugged
up and up
like a long
slurpy
noodle
​

I would rather
be loose
and scrappy
and stumpy
and ragged
the one that
nobody loves
the discarded
refuse of a
more discerning
eye
​

than be made
surreptitiously
into somebody
else's
jumper




© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield

Sirens in the sea
whispering sighs of pale moons
Seraphs in the skies and
the symptomatic melancholy
Tailor-made fascination with
the oblivious oneness
Like a music-box ballerina twirling
in rorschach splatters
Serenade cornucopia frizzled out
Lanterns descending from the
willow trees
Fox-colored
Stout arched neck
Drizzled drops of rain over our
windshield wiper conversations

If you were anything other
Than what I thought you were,
You’d be everything ugly.  

Because I looked to you
As if you woke up the sun each morning,
But you only ever blotted it out.

You took some frizzled brush
With its bristles cut ragged
And pointing in all directions

And you painted the sky
Some slimy, green-black shadow
Which reminded me of pond ****,

Or worse yet
It reminded me of the filtration
In my fish tank I never got around to cleaning,

Oozing yellow pus
And clearing any room with its stench,
It was so much like you.

For just like a soaking,
Disgustingly rotten fish tank filter,
You maintained the image of beauty,

You plucked the sickness
And flakes of half eaten food
From the sea of this world

And built it all up inside of you.
So now people gaze
With some sort of admiration in their eyes

At a tank housing a vibrancy
Of life and plants and healthy things
That only exist to brighten the day,

But little do they know
That if you undo this,
And unscrew that,

You’ll pop right open,
Your filthy inner workings exposed,
And taint all the good things around you,

You’ll leak out into the crystal clarity,
Make it hazy and cloudy and
You’ll blind all the fish,

You’ll **** all the fish
If we don’t keep you closed.

maybe I have burned up
too bright -
                     my nerves are frizzled
                     and frayed

i touch
i fear
i love
           yet this dead pulse is only
           the same

as if the blood in my veins
has frozen midway

there is no heart
to be thawed

frazzle
frizzy
electric

love
plugged
in

frazzled
frizzled

empty
tank.

Frizzled and fried
emotions on high
a breathe on my trigger

My wit has been sharpened
my tongue has been honed
my pen, extended and ready

Focused rage becomes
pinpoint laser burns
pixelated words

Lyrical tirades flow forth
to enchant the true believers
and to gut the haters

Which one shall you be?