an evening stroll through an early Spring
walking with the traffic of the ants
on hands and knees
singing for my supper on a page of Sunday Times.
apricot youths mocking my red current eyes
my crooked spine
roaring with the Tigers beneath Saturns fallen trees
silent shadows of pedestrian feet knotting the terror of my hair.
two bluebells and a daisy chain
as Saplings laugh as Willows age and rest beneath my crawl
my morning coffee lost inside the stomach of the Moon
my thirsty hands, though freezing cold
warming the heart of my one last - rain soaked - cigarette;
my lady of the park
my mother of pearl and compass
locked inside the somewhere of my gated grinding gut
trusts no-one save the guiding locks of leaves
with her lightening seed inside her cage of endless steel;
I am the brother of her cries
but just a hobo in a drunken state of total disarray
a snowflake on a mountain range melting on a yesterdays sun.
an alien in human form
sleeping alone with the medals of my constant war;
take to the streets of a paradise lost
at what cost,
will bring about a changing of the guard?