If I were called in to construct a belief system, I should make use of birds
A codified catalogue of values and full-grown whole known lurches by invisible churches at intuitive angling in the rivers of life hath no need for shepherds wrangling sheep
So, all references to flocks you can keep
Construction is rife
Animal husbandry needs no wife
Gerrymandering the boundaries of my and all other fairweather constructor’s endeavours will be key
But not to the door of anything you’ll ever unlock, push open and pass over yond threshold to see
For instance, a detailed and constricted double-side printed instruction manual for re-defining the act of praying from being down on your knees to climbing up there with the choirs in the trees
Copse junkies
Mansed in the higher branches
Swinging around like monkeys
Brother, please!
Make a wish
Just don’t get me started on the fish
And while the thought-train remains unbroken and by the same token;
If I were called in to construct a new multi-dimensional transport system for love, that we might better project compassion and peace and devotional service across the velodrome of all communities, I would make use of maps
Good old-fashioned Ordnance surveys, bear-baited, torn and heavily annotated by oily Grammar school pupils from seventeenth-century market towns or whenever Gutenburg first got them out en masse to the hallowed gowns of Merrye Olde
You’d have to think like Chaucer to be that bold
And my international love highway would engulf most of the Euro-Asian land mass plus the sexier portions of the Florida Keys, slim seedy haunted hubs of Tokyo, chunks of Rio for the carnival slam, the North Pole for impunity, nay forgetting North Korea for Single-Hearted Unity
Take a minute, this here I am building is an inter-planetary road so resist the urge to goad
You rogue!
Hey hushen up because now it occurs
And not too soon
If I were called in to construct a miracle
I should make use of the lonely moon
That she might instruct me on how better to be present
High in the eye of my mind, slung low in the sky
Virginal, soothed
Unmoved
Pure as the driven
Resting, ready to shine at any given
Every night she sits above the city in my window
And lets go of the past
Moving into the now
But how?
I'm not one for doting on poets
Wac nerds
And yet
If I were called in to construct a time machine I should make use of words
Love is for the highway and belief systems are for the birds
No need to up sticks from the ‘hood and move way out in the boonies
To be present
The moon is good an’ all
But she has a dark side long and tall and lacks drive, and just reflects everyone else’s light
Dressing up like day, all night
Begin
Where to?
Where to begin?
Loss is the hardest thing
I'd make a case for weaving sounds
Worsted warp and shoddy weft in leaps and bounds I sit bereft
Unwoven words: the yarn is left
See Silas Marner's grin
Spin
Make rhetoric
I'd make rhetoric
I’d make rhetoric spin
I'd have you see each word as is
Sent to Raveloe
Naked thin
Alas thin words grow high and wide
With Flying Shuttles, they collide
And fall back down to earth as fabric
Worn like an echo on skin
If
If I
If I were called
Ta dah!
If I were called in
..
gK 09:03:23
