My words are cheap
just like me.
I say what comes
to the tip of the tongue
but underneath the letters
is a skeleton waiting
to discard this flesh.
I keep trying to commit to life, living
but I think I prefer death
without the dying
maybe I’m just afraid
Like how the world turns no matter
the begging for it to stop
or how there is always something
that can live in the crevices of death
Because what the fuck does that mean to me?
It’s no comfort to me
that our energy continues to feed
the continuance of this monstrous world’s greed
Because what the fuck does that mean to me
when the earth consumes you
while I’m still above the soil
shedding skin, dying and therefore still living?
We rest unforgiven
Mere willowy meat on bones
Time hums it’s artificial tunes
Street lights blinking
As our prayers go on trickling
Through the myths we were sold
Too lost to run
We must accept our fate
Along with the birds
Full of spirits today
Back to earth tomorrow
I am much too tired to keep up the chase
Embroiled in this decline
All my friends, they die
And that would be okay
If I had faith
That the cycles of life weren’t being erased But what the fuck is there left to say?
As I suckle from the teat Knowing no better way?
There was a time when even death teemed with life
It seems no coincidence
Our depiction of death
is the skeleton
Of a fellow homosapien
The clouds descend but then they clear away
the rain giving life to parched greenery
A bittern booms in the periphery
a little egret pirouettes, unfurling into an epiphany
A heron circles like a twisted rope
giving room for a flicker of hope
as he lands down in his dishevelled robes
There’s a peregrine falcon in the sky
He’s hunting me and I don’t know why
Did I fall down the rabbit hole
And become a little mouse or mole? Maybe a little bird up in the trees Perhaps I’m a little goldcrest up in the pines
Trying not to be his faveroute feast On which to dine
Is this alchemy
or are we just fools?
Looking for silver lines
where there is no gold
Is a clod of earth just dirt to us?
Something to cleanse away
as if we didn’t come from the dust
that we will return to one day
Accepted into a blackbirds life
as he dinosaur walks inches away from you
without a flicker of fear
makes you feel as sturdy as a tree
If we push up daises when we’re dead
does that mean we’re all gardeners in the end?
No. On second thoughts
it’ll just be another shade of death
when some fellow human ape
comes along with weed killer.
To a worm a blackbird Is like T rex
Haven’t you heard?
The dinosaur is in the magpies Sqwark?
In the titter tatter of bird talk
Dinosaurs have their beady eye on you
From between the leaves
Hunting and singing
Perching and swinging
Souring above your head
The rattle of a dinosaur.
I centred myself In the knowledge of a wise old tree
All gnarled limbs and weeds
A beard of moss
Sometimes wisdom doesn’t speak