How that sky spinning out the sol star
when that giant molester corners the clearance of the skies
this radiant seething dinosaur
tempts and taunts and smears
an expressionist spotlight interrogating
each victim of the winged killer
leering poison fired upon the flesh
whose flayed ripple seers across the workplace of scuffed sand.
Is it always honing in on barely half buried amongst patterns woven
amidst the detritus for ripe wrinkles of youthful burn ?
Perhaps the blemish of sun raging self
blisters currents of the sunbroker of skin
by luring the lavish reckless-seeking
boasting and hiding the squinting of stored moments
glaring their memories fracturing
their lick of evening ?
Or do hollowing echoes of long tides split night
haunted by peeling of the sun
that enemy of unresolved detection ?
such are we, the fossils in corruption that we unthink the blurr
prone to charcoaled lava of spells of lure
where we are uninvited guests of great friends
that might have overstayed their welcome ?
Or are we ourselves uninsured deriders
who protract the yielding to the sun
whilst we paddle our shallows ?
But how vengeant omens are
carefree with such sun hunger ?
Do we never hear the beast snorting
or see how receding skin revolts and molts upon
the sharp reflexes and rust
of the lord of the invasive ?
How should we cure our intravenous curse ?
How but by the shade do we ignore
unprotected greed of self-wealth
that fierce asset-stripper that
we've consumed beyond the
layers of perception?
When did we skin the vacating limb and the ladder of follicles
but do not break-out and stem wounds
like tumours bleeding with guilt in the name
of 'now', that severing charm before 'never' ?
How do we immerse the future before our sentence
that by contortion of the eyeball gaze upon the fault lines
that expose the human earthquake that
has decided 'yesterdays' by
hacking history to resolve its pride ?
Should we open the furnace wasteland or devour the peach ?
Is this the misdirected eruptions that lash upon the leash
that stark consumption
and not the patio doors from the sunlounger
but from which conceals our true human cages within chains
that circus of next door, the other side of the world ?
This is the winged and gilled serpent, that master with Eye drones
bleeding the ringing ears
of battle slugging worshippers marooned
and dived bombed by the heat and dust swirl
in the menace of our core.
until we claw through the bars of falsehood
whilst locking ourselves in just to
relive the refrain that in order to break-out we need to break-in.?!
So let us see the daylight in order to respect the sun
let us not gaze at our star but fear it
because we are the night that the day fought sin
we are the rage and our latest rage
where shrapnel fell to scar the plough
and gouged-out the side of our lives
a bandaged profile,
a lump of 'bullet' extracted
and yet how will the 'now'
and yet when will the 'now ' return
to caress our sleep
and not recoil at our changed retreat ?