The sky is ashing now.
The fruit is faster than the wind.
The clowns
are wandering by.
The aerial dancers are drawing out the poison.
The Ivy stopped to grow.
The litany is scared.
I don't even know what a litany is.
The sacred word is fake.
The wonderer is mysterious.
I am grounding with a cape.
I am worshipping by the salty lake.
My people are badly injured.
I incure self inflicted dangers.
I sit instead of moving
I move to know how alive I can feel,
I am entranced, enthralled and heavy.
Like a rock scratched for thousands of years.
Words are like bites from broken butterflies.
Strings are sounding heavy and roars.
The beauty is flaming and due.
I want to love whether you dress in black or blue.
I want to love you
Your sinews holding in to rooting in to another mans hands.
Flesh in to the deep roots of another mans body.
I want to love you for being you.
Leave you be whether you changed sex overnight
I want to love you
I want to love you for your soul.
If you ever showed it to me
Because I've fallen and its like a haze I can't release from. Like a momentary cry of a she wolf delicately swimming in the sea.
I am person.
I am cave.
I am drunk.
Never by reality but the thrones of the gospel stones.
I am blissful and calm.
Centered and sinister.
Sold and blistered,
Bleary and wintery on a summers day.
Not appreciating what I got not
growing for this vacant lot.
Not a sinner but saint not a saint but sinner and sinful is a word
and sinful is a word
and so is saint.
And so is saint
words are like music faces like the marks of a brush.
All our experiences carried in a wash.... Our bodies streaming distance. Our naked shoulders bursting to the sun.
Our naked knees popping to the distance.
Our eyes able to reach the horizon. How soft and tender the horizon can be even with its sharp black colours
These words are helping me fuck it all
fuck it all for its not the end by any means.
Who knows what life is ain’t thats why is so great to be it.
To be it is to arrogant to say, What can I do but live if I entered this world with life..
I scrape words deep inside from my subconscious to lay them out to you like a ship
an organ
and a harmonica
brown and yellow colours.
The cool air is due.
The flavours are burnt.
I sing in lisps and goodbyes.
Whatever that means
Vauge skin
Vauge life rythmn.
broken sinews and salt..
asleep before it boils.
Why is this time forgotten, the time when
things sleep.
If I could be awake for every sleep
what would I see
If I could be alive for every moment I'm dead
would I be happy
If aspire to know nothing
what does that make me
if I aspire to learn what does that make me.
If belong to one country who am I
Do I belong to the world.
I didn't choose to create borders, I was told thats how the world works.
Why do we have borders and not for the sake of a difficult question.
Why do we?
Is it our way of categorising the world.
I ask myself
Especially when nature is chaotic.
How can we tame nature
I don't even understand a fragment of my own.
No matter how much I've tried
and given up.
And tired
and tried.
Who cares about what I say,
Who cares what it means
do I
what am I?
Why do I question myself.
What do I question
and how do I escape ?
What is it to face things?
Or to run far away?
Am I running running away ?
Or Am I stale and stern
staying
swaying......
or am I just a lick spit of sperm that decided I exist.
What is it?
Dressed in black
dressed in black
dressed in black
dressed in black
dressed in black
dressed in black
dressed in black....
and it shows.
