Slope Peak
Crest fallen, wilting, makeshift bin clattering resonance
The class breaks up for Christmas
seemingly tortured in troubled playtime kiss scenes
A cobbled street tinkles with chains; left by market share holders
breaking waves on waters
A precipice rising before the eyes
On the left the cage the soul bird song is ringing
Out for a light green scalpel delving into plasticine samples
All colours smelling difficult like marzipan left on the side
Dribbling man sized tissues from larger than life magazines
Fall intrepid, foul masterful dreams hollowed from boulders broken
Business up for severance captured by shutters snapping flashes
Gaping wounds stretched by grey clouds raining
Dissolving gasses from motor cars
Blessed and bargain basement dwelling neighbours
Organ grinders
Gripped by soap opera stars
Switch off
The mind
Lay fallow the well trodden grass green meadow
Clambering like knights in light cotton armour
Cooking mystical silence
Golden sliced and jewel held glamour
Swirls of neatly pruned melon
Running rich and rotten
Sure the end is forgotten
Copyright Patrick Turner-Lee 26th August 2015
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