when the sky burned green
the naked trees grew fast
as fast as the eye would ever want to see
pilgrims on pillaged steps
with deeds to the concrete child
walking on stilts through pickled spit
when tomorrow crept like ants towards the sword;
by chance came a fresher wind
four sticks dueling motive
minds eye lost on swollen moors.
be bound or be blessed
the obsessions of the whitest want
where is she now?
this lady of the fracking
this lady of the farm;
when the castles bled dry
rain became less of a friend
passion fruit turned and split the vine
the demented mood now mellow
mellow as the pregnant Stork
carrying the concrete child
singing with gherkin tongue in brine.
caught at sea; frozen in the now
this lady of mutton
this lady of the swarm
when tomorrow crept like ants towards the sword;