*To be revised*

 

I write about the hermit man

He often takes me by the hand.

Lost to gravity a  fan falls

The same one I use to navigate the wind.

 

Pushed me forwards never touching my body.

Motivated a will to resurrect forgotten seeds of hope

Planted for days when there are more downs than ups.

 

This son of a mother pulled out the brazen sun – shed the waning Luna

Roused the Apollo within

  stumbled about -gaze upwards  until

 in sight caught winged creatures

Caught a glimpse of the emotion of flying free.

 

The knowledge found  in a bare, withered  tree

Stem cell life.

 Presumed  the creature lived in my shadow

Turns out  it  had a growth spurt in

An external effort to shirk off the title of the saviour’s chosen one.

He who wears the hallow

Crucified by the unsynchronised dubbed over mouths

Pitched sounds out a  smoke effect bellow.

Can I get a score?

 

Few get to see his fallen wings

Unless preparation  sees an alternative

look to familiar skin.

 

That ole devil called love

Billie holiday thanks for the speckled dove.

 

Highs & lows

hi’s and by’es

 

High light

 at what remains

A pint of Bitter froth decomposed lost in the train of thoughts.

How the sun shine when it comes out.

blossom in spite of mood.

 

Life

you

I

we

Aren’t  vapid merely  short-sighted when  grey-bearded clouds appear

stubbled by  the  5 o clock shadow

 

Stunted by  growth paradigm

tuned into that dark cosmos we know is responsible for feeling so dim.

A connection to a  reflection of original purity to contrast moments we believe we don’t deserve to move forward.

Clandestine cloaks conceal our original sin.

 

This ongoing duet I sing with a feminine hymn

scintillates my belly until I feel the fire lit again from within.

 

Just a few words