Barking in test driven carpet salesman’s trousers,
Floundering for words: a slight hiccup in time.
Planting seaweed flavours in tea for bedraggled guests:
Sound slithering between cracks in the mind.
Triple loud squandering bought out bargain shop boxes
Socks in millennia breakdown; the panic corrupted.
Refresh a button on jeans where snap on convenience is rusted
Crack open a closed wind breaking cover
Capture the sunlight for dazed, depraved late night rapture
In Sea the song of currents blend with soft sucking of stones,
Lapped into warm waters to freeze.
Clapped out hands cover eyes; to look at darkness
A memory of the beginning
Safety and water in the womb
A tomb for others, an achievement for mothers; a parasite haven
Scraps torn out: used as fragments
Produce a beginning; a seedling blooming
Assuming that Spring might stay in season.
Wail against the ball that is bouncing for no reason
Someone dropped it from the ceiling
To cause a stir; a ripple a grieving
The twisted tree burns like a torch
The destruction has meaning; the construction is dreaming.
May 12th 2016
Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright 2016