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I’m a late night wake of wakefullness, rolling through the hours of wide-eyed emptiness. A free loving hippy snoozer without the snooziness. I sleep in between the rays of the moon and ride the coattails of evening stars. Love me two times and I might come back for more, shy me once and I may never return. But the other out there welcomes me, saturates me, harbours a full sea of something. Something filled with tentacles and slippery shoes, reaching arms to entangle my hair in the rush of void-winds. Gas, the breath of giants encircling my mind and forever orbiting each thought with tidal moons. Saltarello, Saltarello, Scherzo in the depths, Smothering Sunday into each other’s steps. A violin in the spheres singing to the absent audience and awaiting their applause with bated breath. I dance on the boards between each crescent watching rockets take to the skies, and laughing each moment that rushes by. A hand for two, palms and skin sensitive teachers.
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For you I ache and fall apart,
For you I tend these tender scars, For you I hope the stars will shine While I lie in dust upon the stairs.
Bells are sounding on the ocean floor
Calling en-masse quietened voices, Though grumbling feet pass with heavy countenance Through every remembered door. ~//~ Bells ring out sounding forlorn: The remembrance of a past unshorn; Life now swelling into mists of time Scrambling as naked countenance looks on. ~//~ Because it is here, this taste will stay An end to pondering, An end to wandering. Should these ends meet, Driving sand into studied toes And gathering gulls into a flock of followers, Bells will ring out overhead To remind a sullen face Of the debt owed to paper thoughts Stranded on the ocean floor.
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