The Blues

The blues are borne of darkness
Colourless night
Take flight, owl of Minerva
Serve the dying with fervour
Unnerve sleepless warden of
this thin sliver of light

Keep close the candle
Pan-handling vandal
The shriek, the squeal
The crass, the genteel
The soul that can’t feel
as it’s torn through the mangle

You once torn, once dismissed
With a flick of the wrist
can walk tall, write The Wall
draw St Peter from Saul
Lay waste to them all
with a pen and a fist

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , ,

Your thoughts on my thoughts

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: