GUEST POST // Rats with Wings by Field of thorns

My apologies to you, for I stole you away
In the dead of the night, whilst you did slumber
In a semiconscious state
I stole you away, in the dead of the night
In the cloak of the rain, and of the thunder
We made our escape, is it any wonder?
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
I know I took you without your permission
But, I saw how you were looking at me.

Do not be alarmed, you are my very last part, last part
Last part, of my precious machine
My precious thought machine
A machine made just for two
Where you can be me, and I can be you
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

Close your eyes and let my thoughts in
And a new beginning, will begin, and begin
Don’t be afraid, like the others before
I have given you the key to my heart, my heart
I saw how you were looking at me
And I too was looking at you
You are the very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

We have arrive at the shore, the beautiful shore
Where things are pretty and dreamy once more
Pungent smell of camphor wafts through the house
Covering the fragrance of death and decay
Here, we are alone at the shore, just you and I
Where you can be me, and I can be you
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
In this lovely house for two
My lovely precious thought machine
A machine made just for two.

Please do not think of escape
No crying, scratching, screaming or such
There is nowhere to run, and no way out
I’ve locked all the windows, and all the doors
Of my precious thought machine, my machine by the shore
Let us sit quietly enjoying each other’s thoughts
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

The gulls in a frenzy upon my return to the shore
How they scream, how they squawk
Louder than the waves knocking upon the door
Who knew my gulls were of the carnivorous sort
How lucky for me, my rats with wings, how they eat, how the eat
They love me and the extra parts that I bring
What they leave behind, sinks to the bottom of the ocean deep
Where things are pretty and dreamy once more.

In time, I know you’ll find I’m perfect for you
In our magic precious thought machine for two
Where you can be me, and I can be you
Just follow my lead and all will be true
I saw how you looked at me, and I too was looking at you
I know I took you without your permission
But, I saw how you were looking at me
In exchange for your thoughts, I give you my heart
You are my very last part, holding the key
The key to the heart, of my precious thought machine.

 

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // A Little-Ball Of Yellow-Fluff by Field of thorns

A Little-Ball
Of Yellow-Fluff
Influenced by
An unknown breeze
It glides across the sky
In search of
Hope and Faith —
While Watchers-Watch
In total dismay
The Yellow-Fluff
Heads on its way
Turning-Heads
As it goes
Hoping they
Will watch the show

 

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Who’s in Charge? by Field of thorns

When day turns into night, and night turns into day,
this magic moment lasts but seconds in the 24 hours of each day.
During these seconds, is the changing of the guard,
when day walkers, are replaced with night watchers, who’s in charge?

By night the evil day walkers are at play, raising havoc in the dark,
eluding the night watchers seeming vigilant trademark.
While by day, the well-loved night watchers are fast asleep,
the day walkers pretend to be so meek, who’s in charge?

It’s an odd and fascinating clock,
that measures the true beats of our hearts.
Which are you, and I know you know,
a day walker or night watcher, who’s in charge?

 

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2014

GUEST POST // 100 Clocks by Field of thorns

My heart — has its very own heart
It’s very, very small
This very small heart
Beats louder than –
A hundred clocks upon the wall
This very small heart
Is kept under lock
Wrapped up well –
Often out of stock.

 

by FIELD OF THORNS
© All rights reserved 2014