Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

it's sunday eight twelve am

mr.sun is sitting on the left side
of my brain, the right side
drags it's molecular feet, limps
'cross my temple, but there ain't
no prayin' goin' on in the church of the forehead
this morning, just winged messengers

blistering orange firebirds

flaming soul missiles of justice
break down the ribcage door
settle hard like leaded fairy dust
in the chamber of a love gun,
lock and load your heart
is the tweet I read in the trail of spent fuel

Feel the world, Learn
their languages, Sing
their songs
Try
on their shoes,
Walk the city

Interesting imagery ... I always enjoy your writing, Steve. You make me think.

Good poem. A whole poem of great lines

there ain't
no prayin' goin' on in the church of the forehead
this morning, just winged messengers

and

flaming soul missiles of justice
break down the ribcage door
settle hard like leaded fairy dust
in the chamber of a love gun

doreen and danno, thanx very much