Standing proud, the living triumphant man,
With a peaceful heart, and a gentle grin,
Knowing he’s in charge, stands proud,
Well deserved, with a message in his hand.
He’s got a scroll with the words written well,
In ink and pen and toner and turmoil.
A message for you, peace will be prosperous,
For the living and the slowly dying,
Those giving birth and all of us,
Will be comforted for all their crying.
Out to heaven, arms stretched,
Out to God, the heart exalts him,
His will, all his will.
This is purely how we choose to live,
Life’s our own breed,
Of mysterious formless rose.
Life in the ground, wet, warm, filthy,
Sucks in the root, and biological necessity.
See nakedness as:
Fertile, glorious, as reason to smile,
Like the chaste and the virile,
Were, when they were in-style.
Happiness, bravado and excellence,
Pile up to a pleasing degree,
Each with their own scents,
Hungry, flowering fragrances.
Ten times the sappy lifeblood firs,
Brush and breeze in the frozen mists,
Take the warmth away from me,
Take it away.
Because there’s a band of jealous men that haven’t been made yet,
Waiting to take life in a degrading way.
You shall know them by their name tags,
The numbers written down in God’s pages,
In the books he told his men and showed his angels.
Right now, keep a close eye on the fables,
For they might be real,
For they might not be ideal,
But they sure as hell will save us,
From the future dreams we avail to in the storm.
15/10/2022
The Humble Rock Dove 