Carnival

The grass pushing up through the concrete
breathes the air.

Up through the earth in strata of clay and rock, first the field that fed, second the bricks of the loom house, and in the top soil the car factory staining with oil. 

I stand among a fatherless generation that’s
loosing its concentration.

Monsters of the estate at Halloween, ghouls setting fire to bushes, burning bushes but no one, or no One hears what it says.
A fatherless generation, culturing it’s self, warming it’s self and the money men selling them candy. We are re creating ourselves buy what we consume.

I stand among a fatherless generation that’s
loosing its concentration.

The brick dust obscures the sight, the day is set by shift not by dawn or dusk, each person moving, breathing feeling, revealing.

These things are holy things, yes here where the house prices are low It’s what we desire not what we acquire, The art of being human beings not human ownings. The carnival of lights moves on away with the flashing of instant delights, shop windows in the main street , electric pulsing family, sell your labour buy your flavour.

The clouds made a scimitar with sun off a glinting edge, drawn from a dark black sheath of the coming storm. In the frailty of the hand span of the kite’s outstretched feathers,
beyond words for their beauty,
beyond words for their horror,
shift the plates of nations beneath the feet and the rumbles are getting louder.

I stand among a fatherless generation that’s
loosing its concentration.

We need another language to explain some things, the right angle buildings make letters but I can’t read the words, through the soil’s layers are the records of taking labour at a price,  down to the cut roots and borders of the covered over fields, the earth can bring anything, water and dust make man.
There is always the sun, always the sun.
 
The grass pushing up through the concrete
breathes the air.