Monday, 31 October 2011

The Leavers Curse

The Air is thick with the smell of steam, rotten and pure, salty and fresh
It is stirred by the breath of the sea,  a whisper on the back of my knee
Lightning brightens the sky in clusters, rhythmic and pulsing
Heavenly fans and clouds of thunder play acoustic rythyms on the leaves
It is tranquil

The Mind is thick with thoughts of feelings, ripe and firm, toxins and chemicals
It is stirred by actions of late, a curse across my conscience
Neurons sparkle and die in torrents , fizzing and bubbling
Whisps of guilt and threads of doubt play their string harmonies on my Soul
It is confused

The Gizzard is thick with the intuition of navigation, impulsive and divine,  twisty and straight
It is stirred by the threat of indecision, a result of duplicate feelings
Pathways open and close in staccato succession, crackling, bidding and biding
Intrinsic knowledge and learned stereotypes play their synthesiser trash on my Mind
It is ready

The Soul is thick with words of paranoia, hesitant and bipolar, critical and constructive
It is stirred by thoughts of duplicate feelings, due to actions of late
Arguments jump from words, flapping, fitting and flying or dying
Memory and conscience hum to the harmonies of guilt and doubt, playing with Me
It is advertised.

The Water is thick with tidings of the storm, hot and cool, wet and frothy
It is stirred by the pull of the moon, a tormentor of hormones and lonely dogs
Monsters be hiding here and there, quilling, gilling and sometimes grilling
Waves from near and far play their percussion concerto on the sand
It is time

The Air, the Mind, the Gizzard, the Soul, the Water
It is tranquil, it is confused, it is ready, it is advertised, it is time
It is me. 

1 comment:

Demelza said...

Damn how do you do come up with this and make something that seems like it's been a tough sound so sadly beautiful!

Hopefully writing it was cleansing and you feel better