When The Music Stops

These bits of us gyre and gimble in every ocean
The spring worn down in our clockwork train
I watch the launch of ten thousand little boats
A million multi-coloured people making their way
First spinning wildly in the middle of the Pacific 
Become the whirling dervishes nudging every coast

Surrounded by dense forests of smoking machines
Tiny cilia fellate, tickle us, scrub the passages
Every body, every artery, every vein, eaten out
They hit the beach, hide in every town, every city
Our world; a fuming bandersnatch in every house

They’ll be tumbledown empty houses in every place
Fields full of cars & trucks, caravans & motor homes
Coming and going, barking shouting and moaning
Leaving great mounds of earth full of sharp words
Graffiti, apprehension spread within our minds

They’ll be gated cities, wagon trains circling
Wild-west settlers guarding with popped-out eyes
I see them all retreating behind high stone walls
Heavy set guards at every gate check the picture cards
Which tribe do you belong to?  Can we let you in? 

Possessed and yet split apart; babbling minds
Caravans of dreams looking for a resting place
Feral children everywhere throwing sticks and stones
The enemy is beyond the distant mist-shrouded hills
They lurk to destroy; we have our missiles & drones

The music plays, we sing and dance within our circle
Put your hand in mine; press your body close to me
Grab hold of something solid in this liquid place
Say you are with me, keep me warm and protect me
When the music stops we teeter on the edge of reason



©Christopher 2019 
Illustration Nick Victor

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