down in the craw holes
Down in the craw holes
There was, there is, a cold cost into instinct instilled,
frosted over frozen stones on the slowly melting tides that roll in more and more,
seasons resonate over the glades and waterways, where human consciousness sometimes gets lost in the pot,
as the man said, “we are winning the hearts and minds and if all fails we put around in their heads,”
it’s a cold shut to noise that resounds in our heads when nothing else seems to numb the pain,
carted off, a startled reaction sometimes scares the locals into submission without intention,
a slow burn coldly solidifies like on the big Islands, building masses we stand upon near the ocean shores with time.
Candles lit near eloquent fireplaces in the nicest homes,
far from chaos hidden rogue that lays in the notes played,
ensconced, there’s a true beauty underneath,
away from the murders that were committed in the name,
there’s a peaceful resolute you can rest your head to, cradled, in that loft where no one is there to know.
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