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HEADLONG.

HEADLONG.

Born a tear the nightingale sings
The whispered fears are stifling
Locked within this catafalque
Of preaching self righteous deceit.

Looking across the hazy space
Formed by our misdemeanours
Borne by rivers we sentenced to death
The cry finally reaches the airing it decreed.

Its dark enough when eyes cant see
Strangers pulled the plug in corner world bars
Propping up the stragglers to the party fare
Then offering tit bits no-one else desired.

Weakly and oh so meekly
The gentle beard shouldered sentimental fools
Carried the torch for forgotten times
For ideas that breached the hatred this life breeds.

Not in a thousand days, not in a lifetime
Nowhere is the answer, there to be found.

We lock ourselves in shadow lit rooms
Searching ideas for a picture of our fears
Endlessly harmonising then closing door
Retreat to splendour and to disease.

Headlong like a widows peak
Panting into the distant, crooked finger
Bending rearward to scratch the itch
Then remain at rest.

And here beyond the last human gateway
We pluck at strangers tearing flesh
Eager to be in and never out
But always to remain the wheels misfortune.

Long, long ago when men were dreams
The knowledge waited patiently
Eager for discovery to save its pain
For now it lies disused, a remnant of its former self.

Hiding in the shelter from the cone of light
If time is real then why not we?

GRUM

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