OF WHAT DO YOU REALLY DREAM?
To turn back
a moment
to know it can be done.
All free now, all silent, no way to stay young.
My face all crumpled
all shaded and scorned
my wrinkles laugh like new children
waiting to be born.
I'm stood but something in the starlight
sticks me statue like, letting all the starlings go by
and the soldiers and the civilians die.
Let with charities, smarties and too many drinkies.
Left with falling down, First World disguises in our own Third World
whilst the punks plot despotism.
All in this crying, this laughter, teaching, fidgeting and forgetting
these details give all meaning.
Jesus sneezed. Let the children come to me, giggle at me.
The note taker sighed, got up and said goodbye.
In the Garden Judas fluffed his lines and this time judges passed over his crimes.
History hesitates as I stand by the painter who starts his project just in time.
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I always want to understand every line but I don't always manage. Does it matter - me thinks not! My favourite line here is "my wrinkles laugh like new children waiting to be born." - what a lovely way to think of wrinkles...
ReplyDeleteJesus sneezed reminds me he was a real man and dust would have got up his nose a lot I suspect...