The Tragedy of the Bees
Weighed down by the delights of an afternoon’s jumbled scavenging you zigzag drunkenly across the sky; tumbling through monocultures to the wild abandon of your
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Weighed down by the delights of an afternoon’s jumbled scavenging you zigzag drunkenly across the sky; tumbling through monocultures to the wild abandon of your
In the creases of deepest space, the sky is ablaze with light: fat galaxies, thin galaxies, barred galaxies, ring galaxies, new galaxies, old galaxies, hot
We trace your violence with methodic unease, charting chaotic ferocities as measured outbursts; a humanised hoax to retain control. As your temper subsides we
Your tarnished skin crinkles in the breeze, an ancient husk that juts from the Earth like a withered question mark; interrogating the exuberance that stirs
Ghostly quilts of verdant fields shimmer in the braying heat, picked bare by arid gusts that rattle through the landscape with malicious intent; a rank,
Fleeing down grassy corridors from whirring teeth that hack at your habitat with ill-managed discipline; this rich mossy canvas spat out as loamy clots, to
Emerging from a coral cocoon you drift towards the surface, feathery legs dancing beneath the waning light of a harvest moon. Perched beneath the waves
Buried deep beneath the tundra, frozen bodies lie asleep, waiting for the trumpet call to raise them from their peaty beds. Saturated with the fossilised
Breaking free from sandy beds you race towards the water’s edge; lunar compass perfectly attuned to the faintest glimmer of starry nights, and the worlds
Smothered beneath a sombre blanket of white lines and greying skies, eyes desensitised to your jaded complexion as our lives play out in stilted monochrome.