Flowing to You Pt.2

Did you ever wonder with the curtains torn asunder that the planet that you plunder was sinking softly to a grave, where all the lightning and the thunder was going down and under, to bring out all the umbers, swaying sensuous to stay?

Have you sat there in the trenches, longed for cigarettes and wenches, trying to fill the empty benches while loading shotgun shells of hope, as the gods in chorus mention, that the upstream intervention, that’s forever being questioned, leaves you not much else to cope?

Fragments felt of feeling,

a constant quiet breathing,

from a fly up on the ceiling,

You had the time to meet

but you never asked its name.

Engagements of a being

are often blind to seeing

as the instincts send them fleeing,

far flung upon their feet

to places far away.

Please stay..

Have you been feeling guilty that your voice has starting lilting, and your eyes have starting tilting, toward an endless summers day, where the fields are ever quilted with orange trees and millet, together sewn by rivers silted, with  a beautiful decay?

I’d like to hear you speaking.

I’d like to hear you breathing.

What is it that you’re seeing?

Who is it that you’re being?

Are you tired of this scheme that circles back and then repeats,

Are you somewhere in between,

standing up or taking seats.

Soon we’ll finally meet

With our backs against the wall,

it fades,

it fades,

it falls,

it starts to roll,

then before you realise,

it’s knocking knuckles at your door,

Making mischief morning mutters,

Making less sense than before.