Our Mother Princess Patchwork

The trees are stacked in cathedral contortions
I face the sun in setting.
The talisman evolves itself
Blossoms in the wildest shade
Never to fade but only to grow
Destroyed, its work is once more with all
By Adam Eve before the fall.

I’m gaining more within a realm of pain
Than I ever could by forgetting your name.

The prophecy fulfils itself
The blueprint divine is etched
The surface is scratched and what do you find?
Your mind.

Our mother princess patchwork

I remember now the way we would sing and beat matchsticks on the ground
Lost and found I am they say.

The words are a power unto themselves
The words are worlds recurring.
Senses souring
Blood sweat pouring

There’s no time for vanity in this insane hour
The clock has lost its face
And I feel out of place in a world of screwed perceptions

I see now the hills are giants slumbering
And here I am, numb within madness
Still….There’s no time for sadness.

Father of lies
Born from the seed of deceit

poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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