The journey
Pastels painting over cracks and crevices
cuts in canvas tapestry of life
Oils spilled on mosaics of passion
broken shards and fragmentations
Pencil drawings sketchy rubbers
contestations smudge enlighten darkness
Inks and doodles careful blue prints
fill fulfil meaning flowers colour life
Memories chiselled on tombstones
caress and blossom in purple and red
25th May 2016
A clock keeps time by tick and tock
Unheard by dead men couched in clay;
As holy men in global robes
Kneel down upon the ground to pray.
Deific ears not there to hear;
Divinity has lost its heart,
If ever heart was part divine
Which begs the question from the start.
No grandiosity is bound
Within a shank of crumbled bone;
They now have found oblivion
As cold as ice and still as stone.
Around Orion's orbit free
A silent soul will search to gain
Eternal promises once made
By masquerading priests, in vain.
But utterly untouchable
Are fragmentations of the mind;
They float ehtereal the air
Without an ounce of truth to bind.
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