Flit

Words (c) Adam Bujons. Image (c) Vincent Van Gogh

Words (c) Adam Bujons. Image (c) Vincent Van Gogh

Another 1

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Text: Adam Bujons, image (c) http://www.shutterstock.com/th/video/clip-7402507-stock-footage-white-feathers-spurt-alpha-fast-flying-animation-with-transparent-back-as-transition.html

June

We’re finally at the end of the crazy-June! Leaving us still with 2 months of silly season (English summer) to go… Where that will take us who can possibly know?!

June Oh June

With your bitch, full, blue moon.
You run on in pieces
in drips so drab
and break up the fun
that we waited to have.
You tyrannous slut
of a month
– Cat June!

Bringing the promise of sun and fun
to dash them and crush us –
you run on and run.
So you’ll guess I’m not pleased with you;
guess we’re not growing
to love your foul days of rain,
while you hide the suns glowing!

Oh June.
Oh my.
What have you become
now so late and wet
were you once called the sun?
I cry for you, baby
and the tears sting my cheeks!
I cry everyday
through your long blasted weeks.

Beck sun

This is an updated post from 2012…

Land Gone Wrong

Finish it, land the final blow!
End this petty session
in life that always carries on!
Nothing left
and not a note to follow.
Take last shouts and Bellow…
There’s no one left to see the end;
This end!

I saw!
I, me!
I was there (among the crowds ~
the ones too quiet /
the few too loud).
The first day, week, month
then the year!
It was all set fine
so fine so near.
A bright beginning – freshest starts,
grabbed all the attentions
of fresh starry hearts…
Dragging them,
pulling them,
coaxing them on!
Those hearts that were keen ~
these hearts that belong
to the new ones
the fresh ones.
These beasts from the start!

And pretty were tunes
and beauteous songs ~
A land was delivered;
a hope without wrongs.
All of us hearts – crammed,
stuck to the brim!
But we loved it
and breathed it
and lived for the grin.
This new time was naked and nimble
we knew it;
our privileged parties just living along…
Invited
well treated
well governed and loved!
In their ignorant rapture ~
we drank and were drunk…

Then slow
it turned sour:
Though new,
not denied,
not quite new enough!
And though nobody lied,
there was no full truths taken ~
no fresh breaths of air…
So: slowly
we grasped it,
us budding bright hearts.
The ones who had followed:
the ones most beguiled.
A raucous mass
trailing
an order now failed.

So here’s where you enter
the end of old news.
The fall of more loved ones
all hearts cracked
en mass…
A tender old tale,
the past all encased
but now we are lost now,
and losing our way.
This new land was pretty ~
yet fated to change!
We killed it
and broke it.
Lost lowly, and dying
a few of us cheered
but most were left crying!
It’s finished
it faltered.
We move on to the
New!!

Sleep Attainable

It’s midnight already again!
The lure of dreamy sleep
drives these closing eyes
yet evades my grasp…

As images of tiredness
freak light on my eyeballs:
Break pools of shadow
and render my sight, at best – sketchy!

The buzz of daytime
and noise of thoughts
serve well to shake ideas of slumber
from my over-tired mind…

Gamble

Pytas had a teacher; Gamble.
I can teach you all
she said.
Pytas willing took her lessons,
drank Gamble’s words:
They filled his mind.
Gamble was a living teacher –
straight and broad
but barely kind.

Followed Gamble where she beckoned –
stepped in steps,
where Gamble trod.
Day and night a thirsty student
heard Gamble preach
and thought and wrote.
Always learning – ever ready –
Gamble witnessed Pytas grow.

Gamble lectured all on life
and living which was new
she knew,
to her protégé whose spongy head
would hold his breath
and wait, listening,
for the next from Gambles
knowledged breadth.

You have shown me!
Pytas cried.
Day 1000 since they started
No more a student dead in steps.
No more to hear
from this to write.
Gamble lost her faithful study
Pytas, losing time,
took flight.

What They’ll Do If You Don’t

Spadunk
La funk
Sits well on a monk
That you’re best to let run
with the bunk
In his trunk

Sit tight: don’t you worry
truly – no need to hurry
the world and its flurry
can wait.

Be poised and on cue:
Neither overtly undue
nor unseemly subdued
to the date

Poor eyes
fill with why’s?
and are quick to despise
even those that rely
on the wise
with their lies

So easily let down
the unreasonably drowned
who are spotted around
this home town

The swiftly forgotten
who dumbly sit – rotting
we’re due to stop dropping
alone

Be seen
to be clean
open house given free
set your mind to be seen
and to glean
what they mean.