moon


Poetry and Music

Sunday, March 31

Song From Up The Bloody Tree [after 'Living on the Ceiling' by Blancmange]

This time you will try,
find that secret,
tell that secret,
abandon that fight,
(you Prometheus you).
Run
from the fears
of the masses
that follow you,
follow you
up that pedestal
so high,
that pedestal
its vertigo
traps you there -
while they enjoy the ground
under your words,
under your stare,
under your
almost-brave-enough
deathwish -
almost brave enough.
Graced by your maddened stare
their ground is firm,
they look up to you and
they
do not realise
that they
force you to look down,
(except when you are running,
climbing further,
running).

Fly,
dare to fly
(they will congratulate themselves
but no matter
dare to fly anyway).

Shout,
dare to,
and don't worry
when you stare
it is ok
to stare,
really,
for your inspiration
could
lift those masses,
your realisation
could shift
that molasses-slow
consciousness
of theirs,
although
can you be so sure
that they aren't you?

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