between the times of a yesterdays sum
strong men about the shields of ever grief
April, with her soothing eyes of pastoral green
will dance with the flowering weeds of merchants and thieves;
many a scolded soul has become one with her captured skin
walking like scoundrels upon the stitches on unsettled wound.
her Father to the powdered prayers that intrude her sinking twin
his madness like a rodent hooked on a Daffodils melting spoon;
too lively and too loud the wood that controls the spin
it is in the socket of the eye where thrives this new begin
cold and grey and grazing with a wheelbarrows broken spleen
April, with her soothing eyes of pastoral green;
a murdered star still mumbles and tumbles within the voice of echoed rain
the lightening feeds its tempered mood into the cracks of a fresh water vein.
where hides the healing hands for Aprils twisting twin?
are they burning with the heartless fake that still leers from deep within?
let us rise with the chorus of morning dew as it caresses the freckles of our arts
peer down like mountaineers upon the hiding place where the healing process starts
and introduce the Doubting Thomas to,
the wonders of the schizophrenic heart;