Hyde Park

I

Shadow cast a languid palette
Of colours, clear and incandescent.
Grey freen, mottled and blue
Impressionist eye held the view.
Through tall grasses dancing
In Parks expanse leading,
My eye to follow a shadow to a water fountain
In reflective notes, it played happily in the fountain.
And cheerful droplets rose to lead
Ones eye to the great leafy
Guardians of the park, heavy
with their summer spread,
For the human need
To escape the heat
of the day near complete.

II

Layers green, deep and pale
Leading to sky, blue and dove-tail.
Rest in grass, tall and summer lent
Sink into universe, each breath spent.
In summer idyll of childhood tree
Each year expanse, reaching down to me.
Arm in arm, far flung and home
I'll not forget the majesty shown,
And if a return was made
There you'd be out-stretched arm
Welcoming me.

- sarahsmith

The School of Sleep

On waking from the deepest sleep
I wondered, were life in reverse.
If nights of sleep be school of life
each day a play we must rehearse.

I’d have to study my behaviour
selfish acts and maybe worse.
a mind so full of petty thoughts
and maybe once or twice a curse.

Maybe I should practise caution
indiscretion deemed perverse.
Erotic sighs won’t pass this student,
shock waves rock the universe.

At dusk pretence just slips away
the naked form is free of sham.
I join the line of student souls
to sit the practise death exam.

Roan.

An Overcoming.

Midnight revolution of collective conscience.
Watch your step, there's death on the footpath.

And they overcame him by the blood of the faceless,
Nameless, unseen martyrs.

Dead in the streetlight; flare and gash
As the eyes drop. Down, in shame, in astonishment
The just deserves of a life spent in captivity,
The last reserves of a generation spent, spent,
Spent, mother fucker.

And what? They,
The martyrs and saints and holy men
All bow down, last breath's moment, bergomask

Bergomask.

Clumsy eyes follow clumsy demise - a trick or treat in the streetlight
Glare and stare, fucked through the face
Staring into space, dreams dreamt and time spent,
All gone to hell in a moment of dignity,
A moment of nobility,
Flash and glare;

A moment of purpose and fight and all they had lived for
Overcame, by the sense of blind purpose, that shook
And fucked them through the face.

Cold lead, footsteps in the streetlight
They hear numbers, they hear an incumbent,
Despondent respondent whose shrill exposé
And drilling words betray
Their true motives and cause and all they had to obey.

Fucked through the face; is all
Some dead, some never alive.

Come closer you'll see the damage, don’t let the streetlight fool ya,
Buddy ol' pal. Them fucked through the face.

This isn't going too well, they'll say,
All too late, I'd imagine,

As one saint falls through the pavement
As one they become, drawn by the streetlight,
Overcome! They'd said,
Now:
'hold my head', instead.

Don't be fooled, my son
Life is forever if you'll only give it away
for a rulebook and ritual,
Obey the habitual
Ringing of ears and killing of questions.
One can be assured
Doubt will be purged, once one is
Dead.

kmtrezona-lecomte