Walkin on Air
Silhouetta the Shadow Girl
Veiling away is deemed of no intrinsic value
as the dutiful jury superimposes its Fata Morgana
of how she died and how she lived:
a guilty verdict to pacify voracious appetites
richly illustrative in copyright singularity of ignorant essence,
integrity becomes the personification individual phobia
judges, lawyers and prosecutors present
in perplexity of perfect harmony that only chaos
can muster in defence of predatory sensuality.
Like pubescent choirboys chant in unison
mute entitlement to deeds of excessive love
the epitome of hypocrisy reverberates through death-row
where hide and seek spasms merely augment the no-show;
in fact I must say in retrospect
invisibility revealed the secret mystery
extensive monogamy imposed on my yearning
for the smell of soft skin on skin
and here I stand on the gallows
still chasing her elusive silhouette
beyond reason and restraint where
night vision flirts unashamedly with morning sacrosanct
glimmer of sunrise gold dust:
could it be that I might reach her finally?
Wholesome reflections of real illusion spawn hope
like the song of birds whispers endearment:
‘when you feel the rope snap your neck,
tweet, tweet,
and moaning breath escapes your lips
in absolute payment for taking life,
tweet, tweet,
you may reach out to touch her again...'
And pastels of a new day paint
the true colour of infinity…
as the dutiful jury superimposes its Fata Morgana
of how she died and how she lived:
a guilty verdict to pacify voracious appetites
richly illustrative in copyright singularity of ignorant essence,
integrity becomes the personification individual phobia
judges, lawyers and prosecutors present
in perplexity of perfect harmony that only chaos
can muster in defence of predatory sensuality.
Like pubescent choirboys chant in unison
mute entitlement to deeds of excessive love
the epitome of hypocrisy reverberates through death-row
where hide and seek spasms merely augment the no-show;
in fact I must say in retrospect
invisibility revealed the secret mystery
extensive monogamy imposed on my yearning
for the smell of soft skin on skin
and here I stand on the gallows
still chasing her elusive silhouette
beyond reason and restraint where
night vision flirts unashamedly with morning sacrosanct
glimmer of sunrise gold dust:
could it be that I might reach her finally?
Wholesome reflections of real illusion spawn hope
like the song of birds whispers endearment:
‘when you feel the rope snap your neck,
tweet, tweet,
and moaning breath escapes your lips
in absolute payment for taking life,
tweet, tweet,
you may reach out to touch her again...'
And pastels of a new day paint
the true colour of infinity…
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Silhouetta the Shadow Girl
Silhouetta the Shadow Girl
