Down to the Watership
The immoderate champions immoderation; the glutton recommends consumption, more often than not a drunk will pour you a drink It is part of the social norm to conform to the addiction of the day. If we are all high we laugh at each other’s jokes and there is less finger pointing about the mess. When we are all in this together we sink or we swim, but we mustn’t look around. Like the rabbits who cannot ask, “Where?” We try to look at ease with dying and contented with our lot. More must be better for we can’t survive on less than what we’ve got.
Design trees for your secret garden
Timeless babies bobble in their underwater positions
Voiceless cherubs bounce and wink
The river of their wisdom to my feeble mind.
The noise of silence wrinkles and tinkles
As the waves crash soundlessly above.
My head fills
I must surface but beg not to lose my connection
When I break the tension of top-side sobriety
I turn these angels to screened-off faithfulls
I must owe all I have to these aquatic infants
Every hope, all my fear is held to test in the face of,
Swimming heroines and their embryonic grave.