violent redin an autumn skysomething is not right but it kind of is
This is not who we are…
This is not a news story…
This is not a political agenda…
This is not a personal vendetta…
The sin eaters are long since gone,
choked to death on the generational build up
that clogged the Faith.
Tonight, the crickets are singing their beautiful lies
Of a world not half dead
At least that’s what I hear in their cryptic lyrics.
Does that make me a romantic?
It’s hard to know for sure.
oh well…Crickets freak me out anyway.
One really shouldn’t sing through their legs if they want to be taken seriously.
You fat cats in your filibuster suits
I saw the word at the beginning of the path It meant nothing to me There were so many already there Coming and going Happy and sad And everything in between The path looked as good as any And I had no particular destination in mind It is, after all, the journey that counts So I passed the sign And joined the others Unaware that I wasn’t supposed to be here I vaguely remember hearing a voice Screaming frantically In a language familiar But too distant to understand I assumed the voice was for someone else I can look back …
A world which shines from its own inner glow.
My mind wandered to stories told to me.
I was sure the dark shadow below
The surface was the awful whale of old
Welcome to my world.
Excuse the mess,
I’ve not had company here before.
Calm amongst the chaos.