Nomad Song by The Stolen Cat

in three parts:

1.
You called her fallen,
with your swollen eyes,
... her stolen gaze
defied your lies.

the angel who fell
left a trail for you,
the angel who fell
left a song:

2.
But we were trapped in the lines,
in the numbers and words,
in your cardboard boxes,
that said "fragile",
we were shifting
sands from home to homes
to the domes of martyrs
to the shanty tombs
for a candlelight dinner
on a tabletop mountain,
but leaving the undistributed middle,
untouched and unpacked.
the joy of giving
wasn't the politics of trade,
but wait, we just traded your soul
for a domes and chime,
and the temple next door.

3.
Back to where it all began on the tabletop mountain:

"where's the mirth?" said the candle to fly
and the fly burnt with joy, and left
a trail of soot on the table for two.

time's up

filter forest,
pilfer wood,
cobalt warm,
molten gold,
"gabriel's eyes",
the salesman wails,
leftover rice
mark carbon trace.
torrid riddance
is a baked apple,
hold your fire,
the steeple's feeble.
river rhyme,
flooded pine
its time its time

feather glow

feather glow feather glow,
why are you such a lather blow?
your bubbles have caused pain,
those floating faces of disdain.

...Revel slow, isn't too early?
what do we know?
the cross and the plough?
love's a warm burrow.

Finding Devi

the ever expanding space,
was wearing a facade,
of rhizobium and nicotine,
...and that agro cement real estate thing,

charm of my town,
trapped in her body,
she wore not clothes,
but romantic history of her eyes,

sadly the dawn came,
wearing inter galactic glitter,
spattering the milky white yolk
de-flowering my pagan spirit.

they gave me a cross,
an extension of your swastika,
they gave me self doubt,
and a pile of books to trace her image.

there she was,
for a moment,
burning in the liturgy
of a lost portal.