The Enigma of Poets.
The light shifts into dark
the dark of night
more darker than I have ever seen
before, as great clouds climb
high, meeting at strange angles but
never to be the same again,
small moments in stretched out time
molten mantling seas of colour
blackening
from unsullied shadowless crimsons
purple - scarlet
conceivable by visibility
intense rippling into black
formless transparent vapour
Oh God!
The enigma of poets,
fools lurking amongst yes men
full of pseudo-reason
peddling rhymes of
dubious merit
where a pinch of salt,
a bookly whisper
can challenge existing codes
or forbidden memories
husky from long silences
murmer gently in the wind
knowing
knowledge is not wisdom and
cultured accents will not
provide a ticket
to the grand show
of life's enigma.
Lazurus dwells in these clouds
a soul
drifting
as the sound of water
pulling across the sky
going somewhere, asking me
when will I die?
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