The Sweet Skies

The Sweet Skies


The faster break of riptide change,
Our common earth is seeming strange,
The shambling oak of groaning stares,
The calling shout of screaming chairs.

The rounded grass of football cheers,
The fearful laugh of losing years,
The sounding roar of flooding shame,
The choking spit of acid rain.

The falling star upon the face,
The spewing myth about the place,
The fucking joke of worldly joy,
The pounding wrath of gun with boy.

The sexy dress around the girl,
The green and slimy drilled out pearl,
The dreaming child stares through glass,
The burning leering bombing pass.

You're havoc bound, up and down,
You're seeing chains, all the same,
Your catalyst of growing flesh,
Ripped and torn on barb wire mesh,
Your renaissance of love and life,
Is punk and bat and bullet knife.

Your sowing seed is lying cold,
Cornered in your trouser-fold,
Electric light is scorching sight,
Your daytime desk, adrenal fright.

You young fat cat,
You wizened pratt,
You baby blue,
You deadly hue,
We come and go,
Dream and die,
See it through the old mans eye.


Life is like the sky.
The red of dawn, the new born,
Full of warmth and glow,
The black of night, the shaking fright,
The feeling that you know.


What you didn't do.



(Author: Chris McCann)