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You really feel the day’s newly dispersed grass?
You really think a blackout to God might work?
Shut up, death, you never saw
Kids and rainbows dance as soon as loss falls down—
So does exhausted green, so do crystals of snow—
Shut up, death, you never heard that fruit
Scream in the garden when she touched it—
I’m not even a fruit, yet I did—
Two prophets, yes, remember them?
One vanished, they say, one-handed
Fire all through the end, how daring—
I don’t know. Tradition, maybe, they accept and breed,
I don’t know. Maybe usage, they breed and answer yes—
Please go buy blue and chains to still—
A resort that never burns—
Soul, your heaven.

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Yes, the media had a field day,
Papers blazed more than flints,
But why bother with Navy blue, I wonder—
She snatched the clouds on her first night shift,
Left the moon a dazed wreck,
Three days later snatched father and son,
Left the mother a glazed wreck,
Really, can you believe it?
She turned a snatcher overnight
Banded with an old war-dog
To rove, pillage and maraud
Us and our garments, scarves, gloves,
Such trashy weapons—
Damn, to think she started as a beggar,
Yes, I still remember her,
So very young, squatting in a seedy corner,
Always scamming cads and cops—
Now? Now she’s a filthy rich lady,
That young beggar of long ago, light—
Look, drop it now, our CEO is on the move,
Just got rid of dark and dawn is here,
But the oldest trees won’t be outrun—
Oh, I see why they’re giving the same corny advice
To the grass withering in their shade:
Behave and never smile to those creepy guys
The sky befriends, except we know, don’t we,
The sky isn’t a hustler or a pimp
So let’s smile to the clouds, grass, you in?
Oh, should sunsets and snow bask in rumours
Or smart innuendos, we don’t care,
Dear voices shrieking with envy—
Game over, we’re no more food for flaming red flowers if ever we think
Of lawns and fields, yes, our thoughts
Crumpling beneath the frost’s blades,
The one left waiting for children to throw away
Leaves after leaves then leave the trees
Heavy with vitamins, healthy foods, energy drinks—
Sorry, what? Oh, that? Look, we’ll see, one never knows with souls,
We might even make do—
I mean, of course, without.

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No, I can’t remember when the waves
Lent her a new birth
And she didn’t hand it back
As desire was burning her,
The hunger she felt from the trees,
While summer strove to breath,
And cicadas kept chirping off-key—
Look, for the blue she was craving, the blue,
Her father, maybe God, or a light
Where clouds and flowers shine when in the mood—
Was she the keeper of blue shards on the walls,
Locked doors, crashing days?
So what, who bloody cares
If obsessions, or quirky meteors
Haunt fathers, who bloody cares
If the blue grabs a rebel, yet she shines,
She dives into a sea of fixed waves,
Those blue ladies hissing “ain’t life so sweet,”
Oh, and she’ll be gorging on words
While homeless misfits
Stare empty-eyed at the streets,
While red-haired girls spread jam on their limbs,
And twilight’s foul words divest—
C’mon, heaven, get a grip, a bromide of blue,
And cheap sunsets look too bright,
No abstract fires, no dreams,
Only her obsessions barking at full blast
At life and begetters, only the harsh blue
From the trees and a music young minstrels
Foolishly dispersed over there—
I know, heaven, no limbs, no souls can give shelter
Whenever the trees ditch demise
In a chaste wood of firs, or is it a chaste wood of sparks?
She still hidden in that shady carport
Where smoke, fags, debts
Keep hounding her?
And you, God, get a move,
Forget questions or waves,
You listening or what?
Hey God, once and for all
Please grab the hatchet you’ve got.