five for the symbols at your door

the newspaper headlines blew down empty streets mumbling something about the third world war we were all too tired to care washed out on hope and benzedrine licking the ash off each others faces just to die that little bit quicker but not you not you under the rags deep in the cellars you scrubbed your hands again again o my lady i had no more strength the king would not die and a ghost still walked my waking dreams but there is a power in repetition first as tragedy then transcendence and i hammered my totems to the crosspiece
one for my belief in you
two for the razorblade and gun
three for the children of trinity
four for the strength to stay alive
five for the symbols at your door

Russell J Turner – February 2011