Blooded grains of Sand
Fall with gravitational haste
For this
Haemophiliac Christ
A blue Cadillac at rest
Upon the corner
Blu Ray System
Plays songs of
Of the Revelator
And the bloody loss
Born of yearning
Of the Baptist’s
And the first set of
Angel’s Wings
Dirtied and deified

To lose your heart
While all around
We’ve all lost ours
Just wax on skin
Lets memories in

If we really want
Them in

About the Revelator
And the levelling
Of heads and wings
And concrete things
And great White horses
Leap in waves
From the seas
Like a foaming breeze
Or a Mason’s head
Buried at low tide
Rope set and tied
In geometric
While the old and scared
Seek , dark and done
One plus one

If I were drowning
I would surely be pleased
By the measure
Of it’s grandeur
The mockery of
It’s Majesty
And two by two
Or Halo Ring

It does not mean
One single thing.

John Prastitis
copyright © John Prastitis all rights reserved