Youth & Revolt

Hope

The tears of the sun rain down drowning out the rapturous
applause of the dying,
Golden butterfly’s flitter away hope into a leather face,
Army’s of clouds dance to the beat of a heart,
The minds eye breached by a flood of rainbows,
The ground shook by a thousand white feathers,
The darkness pierced by a single thought,
Hope,
The whispers of a hope once felt linger in the air like
a hummingbirds dance,
We furiously grasp at flickering wings as if
the shards of life depended on it,
We move to its desire embracing the sky and
coveting its golden touch,
Hope is the golden ticket that is the breath of life.

Road Protesters, Glastonbury

I AM

I am hunted desired converted above all,
To waltz with me is to risk damnation and illation,
From the breath of a butterfly’s kiss to times eternal rotation,
Even the poorest soul can be moved upon high by my mere embrace,
Pinnacles of civilisations have been dashed on my shores,
Once touched even scared souls desire me,
My favour can outlive the stars themselves sparkling
brighter than eternity,
I touch with a feather brushing across lives
disappearing with the night,
I appear but can never be summoned to dance to
someone else’s whim,
Wrapped in clouds soaring with eagles
embraced by adulation I am.

A Snapshot of Life

IT's

I’m a student of it, I study it’s effects, I watch with great intent, it’s my mother, it’s my father, it’s my surroundings, it moulds with a whisper, it banishes without provocation, it looks into the darkness, it lays my soul on a slab, it follows the breeze, it creates the wind,
It has always been.

Bent by the forestay, curved by its energy, pushed by desire, kissed by the pain, hurled by a thought, hit by its obviousness, smiled by it all.

Lifted upon a whim, soaring in it’s light, drawn to it’s flicker, coloured by it’s idea, thrust into it’s sight, sped in it’s slumber,
washed over it’s frustration, impaled in it’s splendour, caressed by it’s reflection.

It is me – I’m here.

Winters Rose