Rebekah's Studio

Deep pits of the blackest black,

Filled with dying light as worlds tear apart.

Burning cauldrons of elemental creation,

Spitting fiends from the Devils heart,

Threaded strings of delicate dust,

Curtains of deftly woven belts,

Treasuries of knowledge, stand adrift,

Vaults of power, potential, wealth,

A magnitude of wondrous ponder,

Guiding life, reaching further,

What thought the simple mind encounters,

At the chance of a meeting an otherworlder,

An ocean of mystery in waves and rips,

As currents pull at our logic and belief,

Earth’s sanity, with all her comforts,

A resort of comprehension, providing relief,

Live in understanding, routine and little traverse,

Or challenge and adventure the deep universe.

Starry skies upon the breeze,
Darkness swirls, the drifting seas,
Lapping against the oiled cypress,
Swaying gently, rocking endless.

A single watchman, stands alert,
Silent and still, most unovert,
When sun returns and night does end,
The anchor heaves, the sails bend.

Winds that carry, specters of sea,
Guide our path, safe and free,
When port we reach, home at last,
The shifting seas, a distant past

Stop.

Reduce.

Increase.

For the people.

For our Country.

Our children’s health,

The fees of their education.

Follow the public, play the game,

Twist the meaning , spin the words,

The whirlwind shrieks the stakes increase,

Bribery, foolery, campaigning for one position,

Election.

Stop.

The race is over.

10 seconds.

A speech.

Then pounce again.

Disagreements, criticism,

No way to fight?

Fine.

We wait.

Here a crash,

There’s outrage,

You’re caught out!

These policies are wrong!

Lets steal their votes, hoard them,

They cannot run this country right!

Public denouncement, the roller coaster resumes,

Faster and closer and faster ‘till election date towers,

The cycle completes.

Over and over again,

This never-ending,

Stupidity.

 

Strength and courage put to the test, to stand for my country with all of the rest.

I fought to the death and as death did come, my service forgotten, my deeds undone.

Shrieking in utter silence alone, a shivering wasteland, drenched to the bone,

In the blackened blood of the fallen victims, the lifeless forms that bear death’s symptoms.

No Gubbah bodies mar these fields today, but we who are left stay, to rot away.

How strange it doth seem,

When the light of day is nigh at night,

And the world retreats before twilight,

The eyes that water in constant concern,

Madly confused until perplexed they doth learn,

The resting of the world upon its spin,

The lay of the land they built on at whim,

The far stars knew, they watched in earnest,

The closest, our sun, hinted its purpose,

The axis of the world we think we know,

Strange and magic, yet it seems as though,

The hunger of man will never subside,

Until he contains the world inside.

The thrill of the chase,

the wild excitement,

the meddling sleuth,

the cruel tyrant,

Running and chasing,

dancing through London,

Stepping stones precariously,

Through danger they run.

To note the clue,

and seek the answer,

To catch the crook,

To hunt the hunter.

To conduct the song,

And place each hint,

A battle of wits,

For fun, not mint.

Were I just a simple girl with boys and bags behind me,

Maybe I would not see the world and let the gallows find me,

Not when you see me, when you know me, you will see inside me,

And find in me the purest love I’ll ever, ever give thee,

For ripened so my heart you’ll find as has been found before thee.

The rustling of pages, the flash of writing,

Reading ‘Molly Moon Stops the World’, by Georgia Byng.

The hit and kill, the roof and, bye-bye!

7:40 game, playing Heathfield High.

The hearty companionship, someone I can talk to,

The Awesome Threesome, right on cue.

Singing the harmony, dancing to the melody,

Radio is on and my iPod’s ready.

Cotton buds and rubbers, charcoal and lead,

Still life on the paper, lying on my bed.

The power to express, in verses so cryptic,

Poetry is liberating, and rather ironic.

Power to create, to destroy,

Power to live, or to die.

You can’t change the past,

I’ve tried and failed,

But you can change the future,

I’ve tried and succeeded.

Power to dream, to imagine,

Power to make it happen,

That’s what I can do.

The rush of wind,

The rustling of feathers,

No binding ropes,

No holding tethers,

The blinding sun,

The infinite blue sky,

No break of path,

No barricade nigh,

The eagle. Strong, proud and free,

The flight of joy, of light and glee,

Leave behind the chains of earth,

Soar the sky, come fly with me.