THE FIRE-HOUSE OF BLUES
23-24th January, 2008.
The tears keep calling,
They’re building up on the other side,
Knocking my eyes out,
The curtains can’t block the light.
When one drop does fall, it lets out a deluge,
Through the crevice that it seeps from,
I see the fire house of blues,
I let myself out to dry but am interrupted by the yellow storm.
I walk through the banks of death,
The water too black to flow,
His body lies there stagnant; the only thing moving is the flame, from which he bled,
I turn away from the land of dearth; I feel a thousand hands,
Fire is no substitute for the high and hungry canine.
I look past the trench and find a flag that still finds reason to flutter,
The wind has forgotten, so have the birds,
The dogs that never knew are now waking up to the blur,
A fortress built by the wood, to protect the pantheon inside,
The woods protect as the flames destroy,
The resistance is now fast falling,
The fortress cracks and the deluge escapes from the crevice, a witness to the gore
I can’t see his face anymore,
I squint my eyes to catch a glimpse,
But beneath the destruction the giant has escaped,
To the land of the emerald sky and the sapphire fate,
Maybe one day we’ll all crash into the elements of hate.
The flames fly around, leaving their ember homes,
They kiss and burn all those who doubt their fire,
A river of grief runs in front of me,
A sea of men behind me,
Line up to plunge in the darkness,
One day I will have to take they dive and look at the devils feet.
There were five when I begun,
And now a billion more stare to the sun,
Their feet covered by tar,
Unable to move, their eyes long for the lone gun,
Fire and water, earth and sky.
Ether and life. Rock and Roll,
Reggae and blues, is now my home.
The blood stops at my chest,
Devoid of power, my face is white with spirits,
The hawks over head,
As the greatest element,
That of blood,
Turns to dust,
The colourless heart draped in a saffron gold,
With the green blood flowing through the lives that glowed.
It’s me, my god and my ghost from now on,
The skies of life don’t see seem too bleak to try,
The hawk blocking the sun will find reason to fly,
The sun seems stretched,
The moon seems flawed,
The sky seems close,
Even chickens try to fly,
The fear within me is whether there is a reason to try.
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