TREE OF WORDS

A mind full of metaphorical foliage
Branches laden heavy with letters,
Tangled in a miscreant mind
Ready to disperse amongst my betters.

Brain scraping the cosmos afar
Sat under this wintry leaden cloud,
So much jumbled in the fog
A mind numb within enveloping shroud.

The bell for sanity tolls
The resonant notes from decadent clapper,
This piece, just a slice of thickened memory
My naked mind running free from its physical wrapper.

How you suck on such juice of my thoughts
Only you can decide,
I just write, my weary feet have trodden this earth
For too long part of the decaying ride.

Begone sir, don't look back
There is a crimson tide
A baying pack,
After blood
After hope,
Clinging to my words.........
Gone, like the tolling bell
An echo of a distant, discordant word.

Phil Hall  July  2013