conflict

you speak to me in lazy meadows
where mild sunlight soothes daisies and pansies
and butterflies flit throught the air

verbal floral art

and tell me constantly...how you feel

when harsh sounds from stark and dry deserts move across your landscape
forming shadows in your mind
(loud colours and hot people)

you cower in your room

scared, defenceless, eclipsed

and then slide out sideways and shoot them down in righteousness(one hand on the bible and the other on the gun)and moral judgements
in the name of freedom wrapped in the colour of a bleeding heart and coated in the reflective paint of your dark, sticky fear and your armoured mirror of denial

nature IS a cruel and indiscriminate force

i move in primary colours, cover myself in black and bitter thorns
and swamp you in the darkness of my chosen silence