The Life of A Man


Weaving and waving,
the life of a man.
It is tied like a knot,
tied and then untied
as if an attempt
to torture meaning
right out of its mouth.


You cannot hear cries
from falling flowers,
because all flowers
are not heard inside
the presense of kings.


Lurking late below,
a southern village.
With no phones to talk
to kings of the world.


Because us flowers
are only flowers,
and flowers bloom deep
in the fertile earth.
Whilst kings sing false songs
on the shaky clouds.


Weaving and waving,
the life of a man.
It is tied like a knot,
tied and then untied
as if an attempt
to torture meaning
right out of life's mouth.