The Naked Troubadour

Broken Blood [poem]

Posted on Jan 19, 2011 Updated on Mar 30, 2017

You can latch your love onto
any one
of a million and one
Peninsulas.
It makes no difference
in the overall
scheme of things;
For all roads take us to home –
that sacred outpost of serendipity
and soul-centredness
which is way beyond the self
and every magic thing which can be conjured
in the galaxy of greed [take heed].
I can say this with confidence
for I have been there –
strutting on the rugged path
which takes you to land’s end
along clifftops and outcrops
excrescences and backdrops
designed to drain
the last drop of broken blood
from even the most hardened
of arteries.

I sit here in my lonely ivory tower
contemplating the world
with my cosmic erection
and wonder if my wanderings
will stand up to closer inspection.
(In bygone days they used leeches
superstition and other confection);

I am slowly ebbing away
like printed words fading on ageing paper
like surging waves waiting
for moon to glow
with light from sun
[a cosmic come]
(is she The One?)

© 2011, Alan Morrison