Ken

Then it’s a new life, ken

Stride for, from strife, to strike, to ken

Blow away the smokescreen, ken

A new day, a new persona, do you ken

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Sunk, I’ve fallen out of love

My demented mind descended

Pretended it had been doing good

My times past have been lamented

Cemented dams opened to the flood

All past promises are now rescinded

Crescendo to the sound of going rough

Your likes, dislikes, flights of fancy are contended

They are sent packing, with the candle that I snuff

No more string-less invitations extended

One too many open arms, becalm unfriendly stuff

Happy times stored safe, easily remembered

You have cut me so so deep with your indifference

So deep

I am sunk, and so I have fallen out of love

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Autograph your dicrotic cast

That rook and that fair raven

Over the sea from Milford Haven

Cigarettes stamped ‘A’ by company Craven

Ashberry and yew, and years spent misbehaving

Words untrue, lines that slew, croons that keep on slaving

Crows and crows and thought yo yo’s, leaving and waving

The hour glass tipped and turned to yesterday

The wayward path tripped to Everglade

The Sunshine orchestra is ready for the stage

That rook and that fair raven

Grass and dales, pail with ships that sailed

Rails into the distance on cowpokes trails

Leaves of glass on shattered brass

Diamonds; the impasse from rusty pasts

Lust and laugh, autograph your dicrotic cast

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Shuffle the raffle

Like a sparrows wing you were broken

Whilst I was feasting on Baudelaire

Hustle, harrow among dust bowls, soft words spoken

Never near, once more we, we were keeping clear

Midnight hour, crescent moon, for you the only token

Whilst I immersed in Poe and Mr. Arnold dear

Shuffle, ruffle, audits amongst dawn’s chorus woken

Ever to steer, rudder less throughout the sphere

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The wonder of rebuff dismissed

You want to communicate

That is you want to say something

To cause some reactions

You want to communicate a closing

That is you want to say something

To close words of birth contractions

Now then here is the dilemma

By saying nothing

Do you communicate more than words can ever say

Or

By saying nothing

Do you precursor, and so prevent reaction

If your words are spoken

Can the meaning be more mistaken

Than if the written word was read

If your words are laid on parchment paper

Is spontaneity lost

The wonder of rebuff dismissed

Redirection distressed, pointed out by no one other

Do you have the craft or guile

With words to smile or cry

Or look through sly eyes wily

With style to climb on high

While still saying, swaying, saying nigh

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