TWO GIANT HAYSTACKS WITH CONVERGING LINES

(Giant Haystacks ~ A Collection of Verse That Meet)

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O Albion, O Albion princess among the wolves

Your lithe ways betray your sensuous moves

O Albion, O Albion she lay down in the hay

Her dog-bitch must brought on by a brewers dray

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I know I love thee, I love thee more than money

and in the morning we’ll go walking

out on the horizon

we are never coming back

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That egg-blue horizon where lost telegraph wires

suffer the same morbid attenuation of a nation

grey lines disappearing

behind two flaxen stacks

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It’s hard to believe until you shake the sieve

that all these lines will meet one day

inside the passions murmuration

where only grizzled monsters grieve

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Converging and concentric lines

the 1,000th part at heavens gate

where even Romulus and Remus wait

Sanctus Paulus et Petrus there conclude

with pious Pope both their parallel fate

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This tattooed Isle ~ this tortured Isle

conscience-worn and stricken

attitudes vile, uninformed, yet still uncertain

Where tolerance becomes a dirty word

and love the final treason

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Please rush past my window

with your flutter and your pomp

Don’t bother knocking at my door

you will never find me in

Until you bow the knee,

and then confess your sin

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Two haystacks stand in the corner of this field

huge obstacles that can be turned to fodder

Two giant haystacks in a field

One said to the other

You are my brother, did you know

We came from the same mother?

The sun had burnt one to black

thus proved it were an older stack

showed against the younger’s gold

that younger was not that old

Or wise, or thoughtful or caring

just spent its evenings staring

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What is the weather forecast today ~ cloudy?

What is the forecast for today ~ sun?

What was the forecast for us today – run?

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Have we now forgotten how to cry

or forgotten how to laugh?

The golden future of tomorrow

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Have we forgotten how to love

or now forgotten how to give?

God opened a stained-blood window

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I took an orange from the bowl today

peeled back its orange skin

I tasted fruit so sweet and driven

could not smell its culture’s sin

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Farmer came to clear the stacks away

To open up the skyline panorama

Loaded they upon a cart in threes an’ twos

To preclude this allegorical dilemma

Not a hamstrung minister of indecision

Nor repentant priest, no sharp contrition

We nurse the absurdity of change without drama

compose a litany where waters run most deep

While only two things mean anything in this life

God, and your heart, where then should we start?

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edenbraytoday

ref.21.06.2020 ~ the longest day

RESEARCH ALBUM :

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thanks for listening …