fire

I remember as a kid seeing numerous times trees, which had been set fire to. Thinking back on it and in need of something to write, it inspired the following.

Firestarter

A young lady has turned to a black,
gnarled and fragile wrinkled widow.
With skeleton arms seized by rigamortis
she is laid bare, raw as bad egg and
pitiful as lost children waiting on the kerb side.

A black soot dress lies at her feet
while she stands in a black bubble and
Others flourish, green and white as Eden.
Some say cut her down,
discard her like a murdered whore

Originally I was going to write a poem about my father, however like a runaway train what came out on the page was something completely different.

I have always seen this as the mind ticking away on a subconcious or unconcious level and then crawling it's way into a concious level and out through the pen.

"Matchstick Mountain" is an odd piece but in a weird kind of way says a lot even though (if you like) it's written almost in code.