It all started with a plastic bag, ensnared under the fig tree.
The flush of branches had ripen a hole
tore right through the OHHH from the branded sign
It looks pale in recollection, worn off and musky
therefore inresistable, I must make that plain
drifting plagues from a slumber towards a seven old year version of what I rather be
My project at hand, nursing a bruised knee
token setback and lion reward from a rescue mission
down the fields up the road to bring back
a litter of kittens amid misjudged shortcut leaps
sideways of a hill facing the town church
Perhaps the blood fueled the commotion
in retrospective mood, that birth of scars
amiss tears to anchor the lesson,
or front teeth to savour with a vengeance
Regardless of control and tall tales,
that merry knee never quite twisted gates
like before, spun now crooked, now moany in every single season.
wounded crushed pride forced my hand, surely
feign disinterested adrift carried momentum
binding my ascend up the trunk of that fig tree
planning the movements from the corner of my eyes
playground funfair, like a cruel mistress whose skirts one preys upon with gait delight, joy torn between obsessive compulsion and devoted method
alas, infected, misguided fondness down to the core.
The day I learnt how to fly, I was most certainly not pushed
shoved, thrown out the ledge. I vively deny or cannot recall slipping, tripping or otherwise being conned by misfortune
I must make that plain.
The rumble stumbled off my lips solely once, oopps,
as the call of the void stroke my very being into motion and I,
foolish and reckless stepped into uncharted planes of physics.
For what felt like a very long drawn breath indeed,
clutching the bag like a drawn flag,
I parachuted away mighty invincible, most certainly without a care
oh benevolent significant other part of me.
Pins and needles came visit first, ants to my sores
pitch dark and eerily quiet after, tender and warm always
what I couldn't smell, see or touch I felt.
Liquid hot, in waves, blazing and chilling sharp from end to end
both ways, the body seeking to make amends.
At that hour I felt scared, not off the prospect I not make it back mind,
do heed my predicament, rather, of what fiendish repercussions
the consequential chain of events underneath the basket of fate
my fears were safely extinct no doubt, in due time mind,
I never made it back, my bones remain to be found,
do not quite get it myself.
countless problems indeed, an ironic hypocrite,
significant other that hug my burial hole
wise words shells cutting short my ambition to grow old
'take responsibility...and die quietly' , ah 'alone'
and as my voice was taken to be honest,
the artillery follows wild and random, a spectrum to my open window
reflective of a gap, a prayer your grace for the sever link
that agonizes my sleep, darkening my passing journey through sorrow and sadness
as I did say, countless problems indeed.
Perspective volatile, often uninvited and periodically feisty
an audience, a dispute, the inner monologue eager,
perhaps to entertain, (a conspiracy without meaning) feeding a state of insomnia
or to be honest, far from spent and passive to famine
should had kept shopping for firmer window glass.
a bridge of reasons, deconstructives blocks of decisions
far worse be those half blasted frescos
venomous too be tales and hall whispers of intrigue,
disguises marred years still after the fact, cease you beast.
I must insist in this act of purge as a most divine intervention
in order to amend my deflected pride should doubt throw amok
the sphere of maddening locus, to hurt another to spare oneself
elevate the divorce of the argument and achieve cloud nine.
sweaty hands, oh betrayal, oh inner conflict
short clipped half-chewed nails do,
do re-frame my face;
hanged in shame as a tribune appointed
turns their bend backs towards the exit on a Sunday afternoon
I be excused for not feeling quite alright.
The stale tale of a mute guardian, rather, how his vigil came to be
halved, encased in magical glass, it wore no shine
knew not that it should reflect and share content
that unto which it came to protect, reveal thy secrets
on a era of peace, eons weld, scathe on a clean facade
Campfire stories recognize the guarded reasons given
volunteered oh yes that guard manned his unconditional surrender
the gift of choice, the post itself comfy and mellow prior
an inkling of foreshadowing by skilled bards
his breath grown weary and finally still, to conserve struggle
accounted by interchanged sleep his eyes slit open, beacons of threat
repose turns to stone, such secrecy that their existence drew a blank in maps
the parchment, books before, Time itself killed them, a myth and fairy-tale now.
Vegetation too aided, ally and friend
to garnish and fortify both secret and prize
no man should ever step within the grounds bemused
be by scourge, rampant insanity or ludicrous stunning luck
you see, more potent than concealment it was forgotten
therefore, immensely at ease. At large it was the hubris
the gay naivety that stayed with the guardian
for the young dread sleep and pursue their lips!
and dreams in exponential leaps gutting away in a perfectly worthy proportional too
to the certainly of a pin drop magnetic pull amiss and lurking amid tosses on a lovers midnight ruse,
penetrating the bosom and killing her at once.
a twice blessed sneeze evacuates the essence of tranquility, emancipating the air.
The superfluous yet distracting fear is at will superficial and haunting.
negate this urgency, a current electrifying and so self-assured.
a crawl of panic licks the surface, connection abridged, throat inflamed,
truly a sorrow state of rot nevermore.
