Sunday 23 December 2012

Out of the scum comes the shining ones


Demons flourish amongst the streaming minds-eye,
they feed on the scum that grows from rocks,
thoughtful detritus from the airy garden falling,
covering all of us in the sins of others.
We don’t stop, we feel their fiery temperament,
We enjoy it, we use it, we need it we think.
But out of the scum comes the shining ones,
covered in ash, they have fallen from the future,
thought far-seeing, prescient pathfinders,
As alluring as the demons ever were.

The matches burn with internal battling,
children love to play,
they know no better.
They feel.
They feel they need to feel,
matching their fire with the new constructs in combinations new.
The future will ensue,
the demons can not stop us.
Although infiltrate us they have,
solemnity is their new friend for forward we look…

To educate our children we turn the world to our tuning.
As the longing dissipates:
Belonging spreads as a disease,
that eases the conflicts by example.
The efficiency of care extinguishes its lessness,
as saving time saves the very cause of its conception,
or at least a channelling of time and the energies into,
a circuitry of coalescence.

Deep down amongst the pit of hells,
the demons chuckle at our capricious desires,
our squandering and hopeful battling,
chuckling at the “f&*%ling”,
at the very insipid roots of our stupidity,
that root in their hearts.
The watering is fresh and cool and sticky at times.
They lick our face with rough toungues,
cleaning in a chemical way that infests us.
“F&*% them dry”
“Colour them in”
You cant get the monkey off your back,
his red skin burns his hands holds tighter,
their innards joining yours in a systemic link growing deeper.

The lump is gone now and the snow is falling,
An overloaded immune system at last working once more,
Psychodelical snowflakes make him laugh,
Future man falls and the soft net catches him,
He is free to fall.

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