When The Calling Comes


The morning was brash, so brash that it shown in white or black, no mid tones. It hit like the hard drumming of blood flow through the body the day after an awful dive. Awoken, a voice echoes out into the wild expanse. Torn between geographies and conscience; You can never stay, you can only go. Call it whatever you please, but they flash and grab, the city lights won’t let you forget!

But who am I?
A devilish twist on comedy; Divine they say.
When they dim it’s a relief
I’ve been patient for the other six
but Heavens they are the deadly virtues, I ought not to wait
So I’ll go on ahead and expect them for dinner,
Unless they choose to fast, then perhaps Brunch tomorrow.
Should I be kept due to their nap or a stuck zipper I’ll have to take temperance and give them a word of kindness: I swear they get lost and forget their respect, so full of their own shadows
These righteous ones have always been the bother.

Are we there yet! I’m not surprised to hear complaints.
You should watch the tongue, how it dances will say a lot.
And how you speak in the quiet is a subtle spell to yourself!
There you go, catch a tune in your ear and become throned
This isn’t the seat you want, but it is a big stepping stone.

Little fairy mornings and bright starry nights,
So sweet to the taste bud, so stark to the mark,
Madness you call me, madness you adept pain
So perfected are you, I say I hardly feel a thing

It’s up to you if you want to take the risk of being stoned
If you’re asking me, I’d say the reward is the correct one

 

 

 

 

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2 thoughts on “When The Calling Comes

  1. Mr Modigliani says:

    Ironic. I am writing about being stoned now (with rocks, not weed). I love how reflective your writing is

    Liked by 1 person

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