Antidote shift
During the west wind,
he crept up to the side of her angel wing heart,
dropping the rest of it like a bomb
A spider lingered from his dream,
turning into a fly spinning through the air of love
Around the head of his velvet sunset,
dreadlocks and moth eaten shirts
spinning
Around and around the grey old wheel
dreaming
Like a beautiful woman wrapped in her ancient hair,
spinning
spinning through the sound of coffee and a
dreamy ambient composistion,
competing for occurence,
for forgotten memory,
competing against the side of a new world trying to be born,
stereos pulsing
trying to be born from ashes and flowers
trying to be born from computers and time
trying to be born in a field of nothing,
spread out in the hollow and black,
stars shining the electric church,
empty spaces in nothing holy
empty spaces in the sound of gentle water
sparkling in western light,
empty spaces shining and sparkling,
falling through space,
falling into my wounded heart
Falling into the whole world filling with leaves and vines and desperate blood
Falling into the blood of Christ , written in five acts, the one remaining hanging like a vast and lonely cloud of doom, violin and guitars weeping gently
hanging above us all with knives, with swords, with the promise we can’t seem to quite remember
Whom calls these droning forgotten words, this gospel of the lost angel of power?
Who see’s the one found against the wall of doom?
Whom do you call for on the dome of living night, amidst the last peel of thunder?
Whom do you hold when the flash is right overhead, rolling the dice of god?
Sound upon sounds ranting to silver ships to save me from their unbelief
A Utilitarian obselecence, a wave of ocean swirls in a sea of dead pills, while the
Children play
Rocking and swaying on the lost little girl beach, a beautiful story being sung
Unfolding in her head, children playing on the sands falling
Falling into soft sound
Falling into the theater, the theater of love we play, always innocent
The rememberance ending the words softly, searching the heavens for something
Searching the heavens for something like now, where all is at peace forever
unfading
