Stagnant & stale, my
soul calls it´s sad wailing tune,
Calling, “Give me fresh
airs with turning of new moon”,
Wherever soul´s eyes lay,
it sees sad, seedy destruction,
Time to refurnish the
soul, it´s my gut-feeling´s deduction.
Be banished bright lights
of life´s chandeliered cartoons,
Enough Hi-Tech, I pods, I
pads & loud mouthed buffoons,
No more mind numbing
banality upon flickering screens,
Tired of media sobbing
& bullet-peppered war screams.
I shall carpet my soul´s
floors with fields of new blooms,
I´ll wallpaper skies in
friezes, of suns & soft opal moons,
Above murk, soul will see
Venus, Jupiter, Saturn & Mars,
Where wishes are carried
by birds to twinkling soft stars.
Soul´s eyes shall turn
away from the urinal pissed streets,
Where blasphemy´s strewn
around plodding of poor feet,
The weight of it all,
weighs heavily upon my sick aching soul,
And upon her sad bent
shoulders, it is now all taking its toll.
I´ll cushion soul´s old
sofa with white scudding soft clouds,
I´ll paint dawns gentle
pink & dusks quietly gold, not loud,
Soft tree-sprigged
forests, furnishings of ivy & old wisteria,
I´ll perfume light rooms
in lilacs & roses, no noise & hysteria.
Dear soul, I present you
with your home, clean, fresh & new,
From this moment on, I´ll
never bequeath sadness upon you,
And together we´ll dance,
soft as feathers & light on our feet,
To places where beauty is
the only friend we´re likely to meet.
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