Lullaby

Flesh of my father,
Flesh of my mother,
See what you have made.

A starry eyed babe,
A bag full of organs,
Yet to  be played.

Waiting for the orchestra,
For a conductor with his baton,
For a form to create.





Open Mouth of the Sea

The sea roars,
Not like a lion,
It is too blue for that,
The seagulls fly into its mouth
Too eagerly.

Taking everything out,
Without a spoken word,
The sea mist answers,
In respect we walk inland.






The Cow Fairy

She flew out from the  glasss of milk,
Like a cow fairy,
That had been sitting in the teat
Of an udder,
Shaking the cream
Off her hair and wings.

Parading around the room,
Like an angelic cat,
To busy posing
To notice a single mirror.

When her callers eyes
Had towelled her off,
She slowly climbed into the glass,
Drunk by her advertisement,
Hiding in its opaque emptiness.

Waiting.







The Golden Bell

The boy was given a golden bell,
The size of a mans fist,
With a heavy handle,
Without explanation.

He held it in both hands,
Knowing the bell was not to be played,
But rang in emergencies
Gathering those like him
Who he had not yet met,
Sounded as an alarm.

Once only.






Your Hand

The rivers current is indecisive,
As you are not mine.

It would be easier to own
An acre of indigo sky,
Farm the stars
Or claim possession over a neon sunset,

Than to hold your hand and keep it
By my side.







Buried Deeds

Fingers to the lip,
Words come out to trip,
Along the tongues devilish tip,
The wings of man are mauled and clipped.

Buried deep within the ground,
Where once the wings with man stood proud,
Are now remains of deeds unbound,
Covered over by dark words, a shroud.

For ever was a fate made clear,
That ones gift of flight kept so near,
As never to let go even with fear,
A chance to fly away from tears.