b00yeh
Bluelighter
It's called
Life In A Box
Propelled through the air leaps a titanium fish with
Electric blue eyes and tarnished bronze scales.
Metallic waves, the mercury flow, sprays of chrome
White wash exploding against the dull lead rocks,
Wakes the sleeping anemone.
The waves blow plankton kisses,
Towards the looming thunder clouds,
As the titanium fish plunges back below!
-
There is someone to see you Dr. Ocean
Waiting in the breathless depths,
Leviathan!
-
The amber slag fathoms the abyss,
Siren calling,
Flames, to summon the tender flesh,
Ignited by hatred, fueled by rage,
It burns out of control.
The song of swan’s to help them see,
The fang’s of bliss to make them whole.
-
Between these jaws, the mind seems clear.
Their taunted loins yet draw them near,
Lustful need, magnetic urge.
Glamorous promise of mother’s safety,
Ink-dark cloud on cold sobriety.
-
Remain faithful, with no intent at all,
Remain innocent, naive of guilt.
Peel the glass onion, till there’s but just a whiff…
Pass the parcel, around the room,
They rip the gaudy wrappings.
Now you’re aware, recurring nightmare,
That you’ve become the gift...
b00yeh 27/12/99
Life In A Box
Propelled through the air leaps a titanium fish with
Electric blue eyes and tarnished bronze scales.
Metallic waves, the mercury flow, sprays of chrome
White wash exploding against the dull lead rocks,
Wakes the sleeping anemone.
The waves blow plankton kisses,
Towards the looming thunder clouds,
As the titanium fish plunges back below!
-
There is someone to see you Dr. Ocean
Waiting in the breathless depths,
Leviathan!
-
The amber slag fathoms the abyss,
Siren calling,
Flames, to summon the tender flesh,
Ignited by hatred, fueled by rage,
It burns out of control.
The song of swan’s to help them see,
The fang’s of bliss to make them whole.
-
Between these jaws, the mind seems clear.
Their taunted loins yet draw them near,
Lustful need, magnetic urge.
Glamorous promise of mother’s safety,
Ink-dark cloud on cold sobriety.
-
Remain faithful, with no intent at all,
Remain innocent, naive of guilt.
Peel the glass onion, till there’s but just a whiff…
Pass the parcel, around the room,
They rip the gaudy wrappings.
Now you’re aware, recurring nightmare,
That you’ve become the gift...
b00yeh 27/12/99
