Monday, 22 April 2013

Heaven is a weight and cannot support the metrics of my measured shoulders.




Scripted and sculpted in love, my phantomed feet contacted the ‘crete as I thought of all of you, in my free wheeling reverie. In the lush dry routes of our sojourn, aye in the seeded and fertilised ground of soil.  We walked in the gated momentum quantum uncertainty of the shine. Unleashed from the phramed staged play that is our heathen MSM GGT world. As unusual as a bog golf course, whole in one. Statistically alarmed by the unprobability of any event actually happening unless staged. Unarmed is death, the executionclowns await to deliver the Lead Pill Pharmacy to the weakened, unlicensed, soon to be erased from memorial.

Why do I call to you? You who died, newly born, Christened, in the arms of matter. Her tears striking the bloodied bed linen. I was dry antipodead birthed. I was lucky, you red and no more. Why did I not remember Mount Florida until our brother made me realise the frailty of my main strength, my unsupported hubris.

I had always recalled that day, overlooking the gorgeous City, stark and clear in the airy waves over our head; however I had only recollected the blood blue sky arching ceremony and whelming my minded ocular. The screaming sun high in the sky, belching and vomiting ersatz foolery. The arid taste of the flora spawn. I did not know, as we laid your tiny body to rest, expunged from my collection. What do I know? I blotted out the aid memoire, until our brother smashed the barrier to our grieve, your grave. Thank you Paul through the pain is unwashed away though my always forgotten day. Forgive me, two decades since the removal of my synaesthesia, 4 decades since you were rested.

To you and the unborn twins, we retain undiminished light in the dark of this tranquil metaphor. Allow me some license, you 3, I do not wish to deny for the 5 of our soul. I call on your strength and resilience for the fight to come. Give to me all that you would have been and grant me your love to deploy the care and alluvial deposit of our grief to affect a new construct of life. A loving layer.

To my orphaned friend I gave the, so like you, related.

How I do not remember that sunny day, as in a frozen daydream, I refracted the glazed stunning Nitrogen skied spectrum, enervating the entire flora to green, as I looked away and down on the banks of the City. Never to have seen your beautiful faces, 3 gone, outwits my witness. Give me the strength to collect my arms and unbleached myself from the sand.

Shield armed in hand, cast weapon, give me your fortitude.

Rested in peace, forever loved, I have opened my heart.

I gird my loins.

John Patrick; thanks to Paul’s infinite resonance.

I will two you my death.