Friday, 25 December 2009

The Virgins No Longer Wears White

    Hello red sun said the owl of the sky,
       And the moon crawled out of its’ hiding place;
       Beneath the remains of a willow-patterned sky
            Tomorrow is clenched in his fist.
 Small metal band of age old convention,
The days plastic world explodes in his face
Aesthetic dreams of silhouettes ciphers
   And today has ceased to exist

Etching itself on the backbone of heaven,
The burning ghost of original sin.
Confetti procession to satisfy morals.
   And yesterday died in the night.

The stilted canyons conceal their secret,
And will not flood the floor of the valley
The neighbour is counting the months on her fingers
   And the virgin no longer wears white !


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