Posted on November 24, 2004 by Nik

benevolent poets

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The balm of benevolent poets
soothes my throbbing fear
like meetings with bunny rabbits

in fields where men-are-not near

Yet how could he feel the earth
When his feet don’t meet with grief
lies buried in his trudging soul

gasping

panting shrouded screaming fleeing dreaming
drowsy, drifting, groaning,
moaning

muddy

dark sounds from the deep

heaving ocean floors
ache like ancient bones

And the octopus knows the colour
of the sounds that well-up from within
and bruise the loving hearts of men
and echo through the ground

and echoes through the ground
echoes through the women
echoes in the Earth

the stifled sound of grown men’s tears
comes roaring up to pound
iron flood gates forged
in childhood’s shame

Take these masks away from me
I need to feel my pain

and learn to love
and live to learn
and caress the little things

travel in the blue-green world
on sunlit pelican wings
and visit the soft places
where poets melt their gold

and visit the soft places
where poets melt their gold