All Shapes, All Sizes, All Makes, All, Ways.

 

     Are you resuscitation enabled?

         Are you, you?

 

        You do know don’t you,

            you do know the gateway upon your being,

                that unites your left, and right, heart………...don’t, you?

 

              This is not my century, tourist, is it yours?

                 What? This is not your century you say,

                      then what hails you we believe to be; guide?

 

                                       ‘I am, confused!’

 

2.

 

     The grey cork carpet, the cheapest known,

has the cherubs there among the crumbs and mites,

   as their play in isolated state has none of any,

      the room sprawls with an untidy assault,

         not even king tidy himself could really know a random,

             ‘care.’

 

          ‘why is not ‘untidy, tidy or, untidy?’

 

   Commonplace as play had the computer games tire of fresh concert,

       was an undistraction; the children were keen to never express,

            it could have been a hundred years old, or fifty but,

                 never two hundred as, this celestial object had not been teraformed then,

                      yet upon the prying camera concealed on different frequency,

                           the scene was set for what was once romanticized in fake lure.

 

     It was so very true upon the scene, the Father loved his Children,

  the Children; their Father, and Mother only rooms away;- never ever vacant.

 

         But still, there was something so profoundly missing upon such a frame,

   the father ‘could’ venture that, it was Scot, Ridley Scot, whom was missing,

       the children ‘could’ venture, time, time was missing or, even, notion of                             embarrassment.

               But, as none said word to one another, the presence to each and comfort,

                                                     ‘enormous and an envy of a Galaxy!’

 

     Past midnight, it was the first birthday, the elderly man had ever had.

 

3.

 

     ‘My century has never known this rule,

        from where do you hail - we seek guidance from

           whence upon this realm we ‘know’ it only a park?

              Why are you real when we paid to be present upon a film made a thousand

                 times before – the script itself so sepia no sulphur needed for combustion?

                    Are you not the same script – the same view the same where words are said

                        whether interrogative predicate or not?'

 

     “I am real, I am real to you as I am myself,

        so too my children yet,

            you open a portal for a rescue dressed for silver screen – your fashion bleak

                besides my cherubs playing in their scruffs,

                    when you go we cease our movement,

                        and yet your silver fantasy knows no rescue be awarded for,

                            seven billion more reply the same.

                                As you leave, our stasis never allows our tears,

                                     nor you from the portals of your different galaxies,

 

             to be resuscitation enabled, is to make we whole again,

                   where not one but both hearts upon us beat,

                           and seven billion the same.

 

                              To know this, is to note the tears in you for the cage

                                   that has us claimed,

                                        none are free, nor you for knowing of this realm,

                                            a tourist pays a price,

                                                I am never a tourist for the crumbs upon the carpet,

                                                   but ashamed of those who claim theirselves advanced,

                                                        while cherubs here – I myself and seven billion more,

                                                             imprisoned within pain!"

 

 

Michael J Waite 6th April 2024. For all. x