if only sinks,

becomes sludge, thick

in the throat

and try to vomit it out

but it gets more congested

with each cough.

cough out the phlegm, like

spittle drooling as waves

cascading on a tall tower

the bottom too low for

laughter above to drift down.

and the red face becomes

purple. a flag of many symbols

painted like stars

on a canvas becomes the chant

where a warrior mounts his horse –

to challenge those above

in a fair fight, when the spittle

lands on chest quite disturbing

with all the hairy knots lumped

together with each thump

as fist hit. bellow.

music above, silence below

where the red blood flows

like the sea parting before moses,

but this caller

parts no water. only an outflow

of rage, everything is red

with a spear launched towards

the unfair fates.

a pitter patter of rain, like footsteps

rushing from backwards, each

time piece unlocked again: to

peer beneath that granite brick,

the worms do wriggle, they

make no cocoons nor metamorphosize.

then mother raises her loving arms,

gathers her children in

an embrace, her cheery laugh breaks

the red tide spell of broken bones

in a forsaken field of dying chants.

the sky tower sinks, the far becomes

near and a child’s plea becomes

a quiet sigh when night wraps

her coldness around this whimpering

adult still shaken by sobs

from something taken away.

it’s not your fault –

the blessed stars now sit by

a worn out soldier starring

at a tide that has raged, swept

the forest and left

nothing in between.

where did life go?

and the tears welled up,

the soil became damp with

life calling out. without a need

to make another detour

from fates barren.

it’s here, it’s now, it’s inside

this warm body wanting life.

i’m here, i’m present, i’m calling

the man shouted to the

sky though laughter had

turned red.

purple even with bruises

all around when a knight’s cracked

armor is found all over

the wicked land, with wasp

stinging skin, welts forming

from a dozen lashes from

life turned sour.

uneven, broken, with feet blistered

and bloodied. the footsteps become

soft and hush, with a cough becoming

a clearing passage through which

the obstacle, the blockage became

all.

all of life seen from below

where music plays above –

and the transformation that came

along when the restless sea

refused to budge.

you’ve got to breathe, mother said

and. it soon was quite clear –

when heart pumped wildly,

doors opened to invite the spirits in.

and you know what they say,

it’s who you let in.