Friday, April 27, 2012

Until There Are Doves

Empty hole
beyond control
it wants to be fed
it isn't dead
so much alive
it'd suck juice from the head

Then tears will fall
and creeps will crawl
they are bugs that'll bite
when they come to fight

And so is the sold
cheap like fools gold
on the outside; decked in trinkets
while the inside has rickets

is compromised
by unsurmised
and broken dreams
and without means
and without beans
to plant a stalk

Perched is a hawk
on a tree, in a meadow
where the grass is all yellow
and the air is dry

For the clouds are wry
and nil of rain
cooking, drying out; in pain
are the flowers all around
and it's there they are bound
to stay …

Why not try to walk away?
to a place that is cool
where the heart is the jewel
on a ferry, so ride
across the river wide
to the other side

Where there still lives a chance to dance
to advance
to repair
to be fair
and rebuild broken mind
and cut the ties that bind

To the dark of the past
to the feelings that last
whence they're blocking the hole
and so killing the soul
There are whispers abide
on the edge of the tear
where the blood drops, they dare
to challenge living wounds
to hum a new tune

There's a knob which is hidden
Control’s not forbidden
and though the fingers may shake
and courage it may take

For the heart controls the hand
of the volume, demand
it be turned up to the ears
so it can drown the fears

And inspire new hope
to climb the wiry rope
to the top of the clouds
so blast the music loud

Then put on the gloves
so when push comes to shove
you can keep sight on above…

Until there are doves

April 27th, 2012
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