Friday, 11 May 2012

OUT THERE.

Anger seems palpable.

It stacks the atmosphere with need;

Feeding on the seeds sown
By ancient words

Heard in cribs and cots
And not forgotten.

Hate

Mates with mindlessness
And the mess made
Mutates
And fills the spaces left

By indecision,

Adoring the vacuum

And flooring sensible communication
Until debate
Is left defenceless

And all that remains
Is a wailing screen
Of noise

Screaming for release;

Awaiting a chink of tinder flint
To spark the whole Goddamn mess

And burn the world down
Before the sun ever
Could.

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