Mornin’… I’m not so crazy about the Poetry prompt today so I’ll prompt myself, which means… as usual, I have no idea what the hell will happen here in the next few. And trust me, something will.
Like this…
the crank will wind you up all tight
a ball of impatience in histories lies
tuffs of fearful stink wrapped in
self incriminating barbed wire
makes the roll around of it vicious
against the tender heart desire
the call to ridiculous means shit
the cranks wind is tightly barbed
It goes for all vulnerable surfaces
the mind is way past engagement
It started the whole thing after all
cause that’s what it does in the lowland
the crawl up and out to higher ground
pushes the roll and stink of it downhill
the smell of fresh and blue sky
sunny up the burn away of dis-ease
the reach isn’t all that far it never was
the crank can’t stand the goodness
so smother yourself in all that Light
get to that mountain top and roll
barbed wire was never really your color
and histories has lied to you every day
It’s damn nice out there right now
if you’re gonna ball up and roll
Be the Sun
