Magma Bird

Magma Bird

Oliver Vieri-Pignatelli

20_12_22
 

If I can't trust, then I can't love

After all I have seen and done.
 

If I can't love, then I can't fly -

Myself, I did murder. Can I ask why?
 

Counting the heads of ducks in a line...

With this life my soul is entwined.
 

Maybe what I think is wrong.

Maybe love is not gone.
 

Maybe it's rare - I'll always despair.

Maybe it's so - I care to know.
 

Perhaps to get rid of the shun

I might at myself fire a gun,
 

But if that hasn't yet occurred

Then time sped past somehow unheard
 

All of the fog in the murky trees

Besides the swamp, protected from breeze -
 

Those ones they call their enemies

Are my closest friends indeed.
 

The viscous sludge bubbles with mirth,

Spouts from its top a sludge not in dearth.
 

Comes back down, no suggestion of a frown,

Re-enters the cesspool to drown...
 

Merrily so, down did it go,

And watch did I from the shore;
 

I laughed vicariously

At something I'll never be
 

A free entity living its life

Unaffected by terror and strife
 

A noble soul guided to course 

One from which material is divorced.
 

Because nothing important is tangible

And thinking so makes ones' life Hell.
 

There is no objective fact -

What we call reality is knack.
 

Focus on the moment in time.

Make a nice-sounding rhyme.
 

Mix red with blue -

Discover new hues.
 

Reach out into the land;

Grime supports your stand -
 

Encouraging you forth

Like no person did before.
 

You will succeed

At whatever you believe.
 

Because nothing is real

Unless your mind makes a spiel
 

And drudgery is the norm

Of those unfortunately born
 

Into a time of shame and disgrace -

Into a grotesque rat race.
 

But back to the slimy cesspool

Where I reside - it's cool.
 

Don't judge me unless

You're willing to pass your own test.
 

It does not matter, for,

You, I do adore.
 

The attempts you stoically make

To prove what's real is fake...
 

When, laughing, I see

That's just meant to be -
 

Nothing is real or fake,

Except for your power intake.
 

You fight fierce Demons I don't know

And pity me as you thrash and throw
 

Into the molten flow.

The remnants of your salvation -

Desperate measures of accommodation.
 

I stop my laugh because it was not malicious -

Only a prodding at your weak attrition.
 

Until you realise your heart has arrested

I'll be waiting for you, calm and rested.
 

--oli '22