Sunday, 30 November 2014

Blathering Poetry 2

Angel Soil

Small city or big Town?
Smaller pulse  with more boom  between the beats
citizens sing their subculture blues
dancing to the light of their subculture hues
between their stomp there is more space

this is  my home where I do not reside
the dot on the map that is my X 
a dusty heaven
where my dirt angels gather

 angels not of celestial space
ascending with majestic grace
they have been
Bumped
                        &
Bruised
Dragging their wings through grit and gravel

With as many that can fit into together
They wave their wink and wonder
And its wake lifts the soil between their stomp
Whirling to the boom boom of their beat
Into a rambling cloud carrying a sweet tune

Amongst my pace
in my present space I close my eyes and listen
And begin to sway as that cloud comes my way
And I sigh
Then hum
 I tap
I snap
            I find myself dancing




occasionally between the sweet tunes boom boom
it rains angel soil
and I find the space
to sculpt 

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