PEACE and SILENCE The black spaces between my thoughts revolving stars in space Bowie dreamed of before his dying Jesus of the planets inside the chasm travelling Elijah in full throttle his blood-red warship carried by inertia of the flowing horse's main silver flaming chariot in the skies three sage horsemen approaching not Saint Nicholas on a sleigh not the Imam calling heads to pray Ayatollah or the dollar I break a stick upon the morgue of the satanic ritual and hope gushes out faith the final frontier of prejudice and ism a white star glistening 4-3-4 light years from my home in New Bedford, New Jersey old Bedford in Bedfordshire UK or any plot of land possessed or unclaimed stolen or re-named purple-blue and black the skies at night a clattering of jackdaw now take flight carrying their ill-gotten gains a songbird slain's remains songbird sings his nations anthem while his buried child moves earth and stones walks so tiny and discreet upon her bones and her distressed feet put up your sword, put up your anger for just an hour of conciliation - tis peace I bring and peace I give peace for you, you ~ O' Lazurus's daughter - to live - peace I give you not as any man or government or decision or controlling thought or aptitude is forever able peace - a black river with black fish and sediment a silent forest where mammals chatter where only wars of territory matter peace kiss silence, tell make it up embrace your long lost brother celebrate that you once had the same mother The voices of the lonely spirits moan I attend their wake to smile the thoughts they bring? morbid songs they sing? are their brows so filled of trained memories? as father passes on to daughter as sons learn to lie like their mother the hyenas dancing bloodied wild birds collecting seeds or feasting on dead carrion when the sun turns its back and all but the moon falls asleep tis joy to be in silence silent as the damp pause between the thunder as silent as the tomb where lay the noble knights in armour the words of Plato and Aristotle so brittle and brilliant lie quietly like exhumed lovers their barren paps, their empty sacs but silence is no skulking demon no lionhearted dragon, spent of semen he towers in the deft morning moon-washed and hazy his deep eyes draw pictures of salted ebony wind-rushed his mountain coat content upon his own time he spoke silent words of truth and ate his fill of lichen, sedges, the wild grass so stealthy in his gait he silently hath learnt to wait as peace, a maidens flowers adorned around his neck beauty and tact and grace plaited by his boned horns peace and silence he hath sworn ©edenbraytoday22.05.2021
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