By Mary Peters
What hand is playing this piano, the left or the right?
The tasks are sometimes insurmountable when things transcend down to where there is no light
.. Magically I find something to smile about, yes it’s a gorgeous sight,
Living by Urunga south of the mouth
Some words – “divine” or perhaps you might hear them and doubt
there’s a few applicable to the description I’ve found about.
I look around at so much unkind
“Frightening is the feeling watching corrupt governments dealing
Changing the ceiling,
they’re under our night tables squealing
We’re left out in the cold.. clinging to this stationary stable
It looks pretty old
and I’m not sure it has integrity, or whether it will hold
Looks very much like it might just fold
The lightening is about and I am holding tight like a crag on a rock
and I’m not going out
Enduring this and that waiting for an inner pain pass outs
I hear the smashing of the rock hard past
its like a wild storm in the summer looking down from a ships mast.
From there my thoughts are more easily cast…
I hail to a trolley of waiting love as it passes
Its the last one left out why do I have to embark on this?
Separated and abandoned in the sweet summer rain”.
Lifting my hand I can summon their gazes on a breaths demand
I see the fleeting glimpses and know instantly hey We finally did this.
The azure blue of eyes that will never be looked into
And that darkness so deep in the other four I won’t see anymore.
A heart forsaken for what is left, cut to pieces and set adrift.
Each and every shift line and daisy chain left disintegrating in the warm summer rain drips
Drenched in useless disdain and tears from years and years
Dreaming …building silly sandcastles and wet sand towers.
Holding bright imaginary bunches of flowers
She wanders away . . . her head down at the ending of another day
Her heart is broken into four equal infarct parts
And the life it once held seemingly feels like it departs!
Holding up the scarified mess… the universe does a snappy redress
In a moment an opening appears and the tears turn into diamonds on the ground …
Falling everywhere they make such a tinkling sound as the piles gets high, it makes a mound.
Her heart holds the love that others tried so hard to drown.
The sacrifice was offered up…..
Lifted high was the half empty cup
A drunken delight is all that’s left behind for the ones who obscenely created that fight.
Open the window of delight and let the wind pour breath into light …
A precious glow, like a flame that wants to ignite my inner Rhodenite
Essentially to excite the spiritual delights to flower and bloom
No air left in any other room
It feels like a tomb when the masses greedily consume
What the hell is that sound … what is the evil tune
Its not even pretty with so much war like doom
Oh god its that Bloke in charge…
He just walked in all the worlds living room . . .
The Jesuit … on oath an roman groomed.
Images @ Eminpee Fotography