aDarkerMind

It Is Over

it is over

obscured by the hidden dialogue

of premeditated change.

by the grace of god almighty

neatly pressed with the seven mouths of snow

whiter than a miracle

not pale by age nor the confines of a cell.

hell has served it\'s purpose.

heaven ploughs calamity 

with the seeds of a singing flatbread

red-eyed it\'s skin of the dead that walk within.

from hand to nose

the goddess Bastet

mummified and buried 

with her walking-stick and a good luck charm

carved from a lovers tree.

her mother earth

her father chained to the eyelids of the sun.

somewhere between the night-owls market stalls

falls the truth

the dragging tails of the talisman

of a golden-green through the circles of a crop

will stop at nothing

purring like a cheshire cat

with a cigarette and a trilby hat

sucking straw from a quails egg as it sleeps.

there are no peeping-toms to witness such regime

only white-blood cells of mercury and salt

a hunger hard to shake.

by who\'s own hands

to accomodate this prehistoric sham?

I have smoked my ham one hundred times before

but still it tastes of fox-fur with a nose that cannot twitch.