No louder than the snoring tigers lolling tongue!Oâ€™ my sleeping; weeping, thoughts.
Were like army blankets, you and I
observing; naught but sunbeams...
But the lintel iron moonbeams,
underâ€”which no one listens.
Nor speaksâ€”but gibberish
No one sleeps, no one, dreams.
But even soâ€™ itâ€™s a sentryâ€™s landscape
thatâ€™s foolhardy bold as any heaven
thatâ€™s nonsensical, as any song,
Sung in rhymeâ€”one learns to love.
(Thatâ€™s as still, as any silence
Hammering... in the darkened thereafter.)
â€œMy own horrors anthem shot shall roar an alarmâ€...
No louder than the snoring tigers lolling tongue!
Poetry by M Heathcote
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Written on 2012-12-07 at 02:15
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