I had been digging in the dirt

listening to Human Dogma

itching ears were on the search

all for naught and torn asunder

a heart of stone that lacked the word

the learned hand of a bankrupt steward

and this love began the thirst

the crushed seed of men preserved

and is it love that makes you ill ?

prey birds of blackened will

the widows mite upon your eye

false prophets mesmerize

break me down forgive me all !!

so far down that I can't fall

the word of life's redeeming creed

all my breath the blood I bleed

[ A MURDER OF CROWS ]

wake me from my dreaming

in my death throes

a short life in silent heaving

a rhythm drums just for one

release to dust, this Talon must

dig in deep wait for peace

drip into the newest sleep

I can hear all you say

this the last of waking day's


Tony Wise 1