a heavy horse with his chimney sweep thighs
heckled by the crowded mist of a rainbows constant choke.
the eloping eyes of the dancing marrows shadow
running deep into the forest of forbidden leaves
with cuffed sleaves harbouring a meteors\' fugitive;
hot coals tingling the breasts of loves most delicate wounds
a harbour masters pelican beak battles with protesting frowns
comedic metaphors hiding beneath gods bloodsoaked eiderdown;
a beggars belief in all that has been buggered by the seasonal change
as the flailing arms of winters migrating auctioneer
tempts fate into the hall of flames where unfertile sorrow smiles
where the grated cheddar spits its\' bid onto ceremonial aisles;
the bridesmaid in her hammered dress soaked in a steroid gin
stares motionless as her walking stick
stalks the cries of a bereaving bacons rindless back;
pennies from the salt mines of impromptu desire
scraped with the wired brush of distinguished disguise
as a best man dies on the marbled slab where still lives a summer fruit
so lives the heavy horse as he ploughs his heartless field
with his chimney sweep thighs still sleeping with an angels smoking veal;
a toast for the bride
a pickled egg for the groom of addicted vowels.
a hand towel and a trouser press
who gets to know the truth of what real love really is?
who gets to firstly know
who gets to only second guess?