Three moons of the storm

Warnings across the windows
Dawn falls with the beach cloud
Grey cloud that curdles
Then tickles the roundness of three moons

When the distraction of raising names and painting walls has been framed
Then maybe we can fix our eyes to the horizon
Each moon shines to celebrate each moon shines to blind
For luck behind this monstrosity of a storm the moons are hardly seen

And begging the modern age to share it's wisdom would be a crooked key for a straight lock
And wishing things were not as they are as the winds mischievously whistle tragic omen
Fear not for the danger comes not from without
Bad intentions start from where people measure hands and wrists and layers of dirt

The light of three moons will never change that
Nor will the telescope that reveals it as an optical illusion.

Build a new one

That cold river overflowed
And took most of what the days gave you to know
The bridges the dams the riverside factories
All gone with the torrents

Clothe yourself for the water is deep and cold
The old factory is gone and so is part of the road
Everything you knew there is underwater
We all smile across the swollen expanse of dark water

Blessed things will come of this
Destruction's fine flavor
The stubborn ones can hold the banks and let water pass over
though that will be their chosen method to self diminish

Over the fine water the new miracle will be created
Not a magical mystical surprise but a thing built of our hands
With plenty of god in our arms
With the sweet flavor of renew in our mouths.

Pillbox

The machine-gunner sweats in there
he's sweating as the best brains contemplate the god particle
His trigger finger stiffens
His thoughts jeer and screech

The walls shake but there's no target
He watches the evacuation
and feels the earth shake again
Air thick inside the pillbox pressing against his rational thinking

His neck jars in the turn as his ear catches the sharp impact of a crane collapsing
He knows there will be no enemy invading the premises today
Or ever after for eternity as the hill the pillbox is on starts to slide into the abyss
Soon the rest of the country, then Europe itself and then the world

The machine gunner lets off a few rounds
And feels the little bunker crumble
then warmth and loud buzzing
a darkening and then a goneness to everything.

What is scratched into the letterbox

One residence at work
The hand is never idle
The surface of the letterbox is clear and clean
That is where I take the knife and scratch my dreams

The road is pizza
We are the table all presenting moving with the eaters
Long streets around cloudy lost afternoons
god whispers expiry dates

Our arrival point is hiding behind seriousness
Shortcuts are fuzzy little animals giggling
They say life is target practice
Though it is the knife cutting into wood

They say life is a journey
though it is the carving out of a message
They say life is a sign
but it's the reading of the message

Slice of the world

Take a taste of the world
A piece of the world full flavored
Eat it up with your eyes
breathe it in

Drink the skies and feast on hills
This city is a banquet and although raw in places
it's all here to be consumed
It's on the dinner plate of your shoes

Seek out the riversides bite them as they ever moist
are easily digested
Gorge yourself on the industrial wastelands
spiced with rusted car, train parts and toxic residue

I can eat it all, my teeth through stone like sharp crazy axes
my tongue tasting even the underside of soot sprayed bridges
and my appetite doesn't end there
I'd like to munch buildings and snack on buses

This little diner, this little spec on which we were spread
I say knives and forks we the unthinkables being human
I say bibs on and hats off the stomachs grumbling
Menu is everything the eye can see, as if the world was a pie - take a slice.

Glue sniffers and the ick don't stick click

They glue sniffers are looked on with eyes of contempt
They can't bath and they can't read
Petrol and glue is their need
Down the back alley where pigeons feed

Flash jackets with good intentions that ridicule good intentions walk by
They have pomp and wit and several strategies for décor enhancement
They purvey as if to sell a message until they reach the wretches
Voiceless the smells and sights shock them out of criticizing

One of the glue sniffer kids wheezes on the fumes
the flash jacket get a whiff of my CK scents turns his face in disgust
One of the older glue heads thinks about robbing them
But heels that would sell souls to please the elite start clicking

The flash jackets hold their breaths as the glue sniffers argue and whistle
briskly the flash jackets reach their café of the all knowing contemporary standard
safely and soundly they begin to make the transformation
back to sipping overpriced coffee and judging and complaining about the rest of their flash friends

To think a thought

I was just being me when
bam something came into my head
it was a thought,
Oh my I am thinking a thought

What is this thought, my brain says to itself,
what is this distraction?
where is it going?
far far from reality, oh my.