Shifting the gear,
clutching at nostrils.
Eight hours;
of undulating, pedalled pleasure.
Communally imbibing Christ’s
blood, like, twelve apostles.
Resurrection; found in a spirit’s –
double measure…
A snifter of hope –
blown into a smoky bottle.
Three graveyard shifts later,
the zombie’s bottleneck is throttled.
Followed by –
three days of manic, forsaken terror.
The fear imprisoned mind;
crucified; by pedantic Aristotle…
Painting the frown;
Dread.
A beer-goggled gaze –
locks onto a clown’s ruby-red smile.
Brushstrokes of panic,
turn the landscape;
a greyer shade of lead.
Judah’s lion, and, lioness;
have already been defiled.
The fledgling doves;
have found heavenly peace –
as; vertically, they have fled…
But, for, we – desolate few;
escape is futile.
Eden has gone.
From, ethereal garden, to, shed.
All trees, plants,
flowers, bushes,
and, wooden panels,
have been collectively burnt, and, shred.
By pasty, secateur-ing devils – that beguile.
Who ask for details,
to stop, and, search,
the saintly, for a while…
Cuff, beat, confine, and, brutalise,
without proving need; the “lowerbred”.
In their eyes,
a twinkling morning star,
cast us down.
But, righteous children; always rise.
Ascending high above –
Babylon’s screaming, burning lies.
Losing blueish, busied noses,
to spite;
in the face of systematic –
destruction, and, denial.
poorman'sdreams 