yet another song of green. fables
yellow. grass red,
fish hassling the waters of the pond;
blue, crayon.
bend the rainbow
backwards on its backbone, snap! the sound
upon the knee
kindle fire in-between finger-thumb
symbolism of an infant dead,
foreshortened life and death, as Donne
would inscribe his bones to the Earth;
a shallow grave our footsteps make,
upon the stepping, after step
that shortly you will meet the End.
flame retarded, (the) eyes
dancing outside the corona; sight.
visions of fury, then, swell like the Mother's breast.
and harbour them like yachts, who dine upon the sea
with milky white teeth, in-out, breaking waves
teeth gnashing teeth, lips bleed, surf spills:
crest my head upon a downy pillow.
i sleep inside an apple in a casket.
demons lair, silver hair, I dream inside
the demons hair.
and can you picture
the limbs of starry-eyed kids being swallowed
by a guillotine?
and are pigeons
the birds of message or the dinner meant for
hungry cats?
and fat I am from breathing air spooned
from golden arches. Bulging, smudged in grease,
surely soon to be deceased. colours sold
from rainbow broken, or just plundered
like the virgin pickle
and I am of the thought
that in this void of black and white, the world
has been painted in the memory of green; of
blessed trees, or fruity reds, and sky hued blue
that, now, in neon decadence our eyes must
face the sight of a world without nature--
and all the things we see just some plastic rash,
products of unwholesome rainbow mimicry!