Thursday, April 26, 2012


On the horizon
electric impulses
moving through meridians
cooling to obsidian

Out of molten lava
burning to hot ashes
and ashes to wings
fit now to sing

A song of sweet array
not of the kitschy kind
all of an itchy kind
like a niacin flush

An unpleasant gush
induced for good
removed is the hood
and now the wind blows

On ears shy to cold
though the breeze is but fair
if one does dare
to raise their head

To awaken from dead
and to look into the sun
then freedoms' been won

and so lies before
peace past the war

Love for thy self
honoured in health
on the horizon
and deep in the hearth
it is beauty's basis
not just an oasis
it is back from space and

April 26th, 2012

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