Blood And Augury

Induction

Memory is a landscape,
Shaped from a soul or sun and
Wind gathered at an ocean’s eye.
Then see that uncertain sleep
When shoals of thought penetrate bone
And navigate dust towards the risen scope
Of the conscious hour;
Carved and tilled, sown and scaled,
Until the very blood and augury
That birthed us paints us new again.
Yes, as our music and sometime majesty,
Our very word-vision rebels aloud
In neo-utero to the lonely,
Loving eversong of a creator.
Yes, towards all creators.

Idol

(Or A New Paradise For True Beginners)

O come, all ye faithless!
And so I was,
And so I did.
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.
This was my first digression.

Click.

You see, on my third day from Thirty
A true love said to me..
Brb.
Parting of the bed, see?
Holocaust of silence.
He brewed for himself
His own basket case.
Weaved from water and other such
Urgencies of thirst,
Fluid in steady recline.

.. So here I came, uh huh,
And it reminded me of running the ranch fields of Inchicore –
The freedom of being Twelve..
Tribes, thousands on screen.
Taurean,
Synaesthesia en masse.
Sinai language, commanding,
Shattering tableaus.
Click – handsome hound.
Click – clever cad.
Click – funny fecker.
Click me out, baby.

By morning with boy-legs like a new born foal,
In the all is awe brightness of a dew.
Fragile child of day..
.. Awake all night,
Uber Ram’s Horn for the herd.
Malefactor,
Mocking with merchant tongue
The few you fuck unfettered.
Burning many a bush but bridges kept intact.
Holy Moses…

Then,
You..

From true mountain descent.
Fate bringer, through bringing a faith restored.
Wielding woman’s wounds like a sword,
So that all that previous death dies,
Destroyed through the comfort and gentile glory
Of a knowing Resurrection.

Prayer

And so what was well
Never shall be.
Again, unnatural day.
Night seemed certain at least,
Yet the chrome cemetary grey
Wrought no steel, no twilight mechanism
To soothe too soon a finality.
Huge singular tear pool from your eye
Like a clear blood (my blood) splashing,
Crashing into the plain normality of your shoe.
For all that was then seems strange fabric –
That something else from me again,
Your sullen little brother again –
My head bowed with speech defeated,
As we stared, sunken at the grave of childhood.

Oh I only have this!
I have only this!
Plough all knowing from my path,
For too shrill is the music.
Too cold the breath mist on the mirror.
Too freakish is the faith sequence,
Too manic the extant lull of acceptance.
Let Saviours come with the wherewithal
Or lets beaches boil their oceans bare,
Bleached to the naked physic.
Let Gods and science alike get fucked to their high heavens
And finally feel the angry earth batter
Every aspiration of an age!
Rape, lay waste the hard and sensitive tragedy.
Scream with innocence the death of Adam’s fall,
For too often we call Human!
Too oft administer all
To the assembled accident of the ammoniacal soup.
Nor shall the wavering cross of conscious and conscience
In some form of healing hour longer be.
No.
Let sickness itself,
Yet another bastard born of us
Suckle from it’s whore mother of retention,
Time.
Then, let it be.

For what more must it make
To break the hate music now,
Born from Requiems then?
Unnatural ways.
For all comes after the past.
After the past is gone.

Amen.