This Is Prattle

Notes or tones, Daubed across the floor, Across the wall, Gibson greens and Richenbacher reds, Amplified auburns, Streaky, thick, splatters Momentary, Fleeting Yet Everlasting, Unforgettable, Ingrained.

Closed and closer and cosy. 

It just fell out of his head.  

Hush, Shushed, Silence in the Room, Whisps of, Hints of, Drips of sound, Cascading around, Rumbling through, Tumbling through, Silence in the room. Husks of sonic remnants, Haunt these, Vacant thoughts, Your voice, Your sound, Cascading around.

Brand new states.

We can see it on the screen. 

Crowing, Towards morning horizons, Full of promise and new astonishment, Hopefully astonishment, Oh savannahs, Reaching, Out towards morning horizons. Self proclaimed epithets, Hot aired phrases, Full of promise and broad Generalisations, No, not generalisations, Spat, Spit, Sputtered refrains, Rewinded, Replayed every new morning horizon.

Venture forwards, Dears, And darlings, Venture past the Iced over avenues, Past the paths, Lanes, Villages, Outwards into more, Into ways untold, Unrefined, Go forth, For yourself.

Top chap. 

Be aware, Eyes in the back of your head, Monitor, Observe, Be aware of them. Be awake, Eyes open by toothpicks, Stare, Tremble, Be awake for them. Be warned, Lest thee turn back, Warn others too

Clank chirp, Rotors wings, Clank chirp, What dawn brings. Take heed, The early call to arms, To legs, Clank chirp. Fluttered eyes, Cautious choruses, Opening the day, Creaky, Clank, Chirp.

Wisened Greek philosophy, Behind the mashed potatoes, Wondering or wittering With expostulating hands, Nodded heads, hearty chuckles, Behind the roasted carrots, Green beans, salad. One more Pinot Noir, Off they spark again, I crack, blank, wide eyed, Nod, Take a large spoon of mashed potatoes.

Cornered Cowering, Left to rot and mould, Besides antique bits and bobs And other things unsold. Cobwebbed Crawling, Wrapped in silver dust, Amidst murmurs of memories, Silt and soot and rust. Castout Carelessly, Carted off before, Deposited and dumped. No-one visits, anymore.

Swords at the ready boys, Hands on the hilt, Best foot forward boys, Follow my lead, Ready at my call boys, Willing to strike, Can’t see the villains boys. But trust us they’re there, Just swing where we tell you boys, Slash at the air, We know theres an enemy, Invisible and silent, Swords at their ready, Hands on their hilt, Silent and invisible, Masked in the shade.

Cough. 

Columbine. 

Farewell.