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Top piece goes to finals.


Under October’s feet stands a priest picking up
the ashes of those he ever loved and those
he’ll never meet. Maybe it was suppose to end
this way? Holy Brother of the Juniper Gardens
with the sackcloth of infertility, a motionless cymbal.
This is the sound of the basement tape;
this is the kingdom of seclusion.
You’ll be thrown under the ventricle valleys,
you’ll be lead away like a widow burying
her stones. Those who choose to follow,
those who choose to eat from the crop
that grows from the anchors
must deny it. But if we were to
cut down the rainforests and append
them on the cross,
would we be that much closer to meeting God-
of the vigils from the formless snow?

the wolf

aluminum outfits
reduced to alchemy
the cacophony
of absolute euphony
rings out
the night soon
in the jaws of the howl

trail markers
construct the horizon
streetlights bright
against the snow

metal flesh soft
sallow men cross the hearts
with shears
slit the stomach and arms
white hot

headlights make the shadows tall
the door scraps fall
lanterns beacon
the unconditional

windows open ears
listen to the impossible bleating
a woman crying,
the cracklehiss of tears freezing to cheeks,
they peel his forehead from the leather
and place the soaking
skin safe inside her maw

I secure the drapes
but the moon somehow brushes my face
when I dream tonight I dream of
the exhaust rising in clumps behind her legs
like blood separating from water

From Frosted Ground to Crystal Sky

Welcome; season of sketches
of whites on greys
on frosted hands
and glazed eyes,
the cold slowly spreading sunwise
stripping the sealant from the skin of summer
in shades of tan
and replacing them with a wicked white

Welcome to the one last sparrow
in a town of wolves and bears
screaming please allow these wings to glide
over southern seas in winter

A sparrow sick of screams of silence
coming from the British skylines
and the icy skies he has to fly through
every day of British life
and the feeling slowly freezing
both his blood and his bones
soon to work up to his soul;
a cold his thin summer feathers
can't control.

And welcome the new year just ahead
though another year of work and bed;
it will soon show that time is flying
towards the sparkling light of Spring.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
I like the first one, but it doesn't seem very winter-y, and with that supposedly being the theme of the pieces... hmm...
O! music: Click (Youtube)

^ Click to see an acoustic arrangement of Ke$ha's 'Your Love is my Drug' - everyone's favourite song.