[two hundred, sixteen[
Oh broad love, oh wide adoree,
I see the hills across the land they were calling out to me
to dance along as if Maria
and release everything, everything to the exterior paradise
of therefore, beyond, to be the one and only in a vast,
slow nothing-ness, slow central silence with fierce belonging,
finest humble, but a total stride, a strength in length,
and it was wide.
What are you world, lonely, among your noisy head?
Amidst your busy streets and your stone cold bed,
through the taverns loudly curdling the masses,
between the underways the slow ways and the shops,
the corporation capitalist beginners showing me nothing,
but i suppose you see, since you hug it softly,
hug it securely,
because if it left you would be gone.
Integration of the bindings of the yards in the villages,
it spins and invisible webs bind it
to the ground and the gravity connecting down and deep,
the world doesn't rest and the people are asleep,
the silent sleeping people recieve a soft strong hug
of the world realising worth and jewels are not enough
for wealth beauty power unless it recieves
that one important flower
blooming strong and fiercly.
Oh the booming brown and white and red and white and yellow,
the colours all around the world ignite together,
and the chapters and the chaples and the chaplin's red noses,
kick and scream and fight against the bright thorny
roses.
focus: calamity.
finally, I can speak.
Jess :]
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