MERLOT SUNRISE WAS THE GODDESS OF HER NAME

its a merlot sunrise 
where the bad poets die beside the good ones
raised in cross and pine
sweet start to these constant hours each laughing in the last
hysterical phantoms please dont walk so close
daylight becomes the lighthouse  white and clear in aquarium soul
heaven stubbed like a forgotten cigarette
in the background bowie's rebel rebel displays
silent sleep perches between noah's oldest dove
yet to return blinded by the driest land

twirling dancing merlot sunrise
balanced family hides in strangers stolen disguises
seeds sown in lost scented madness
no preacher threatens the entrance to my hollow  theft
holy wine bleeds into the merlot sunrise
how he slept after the march which freedom demanded

urinating into the fed and spinning reels
colours in woolen scenes beat on drums
skins stretched and flayed 
when love shouted to be herd
against the nights lonely sheathed shadows
not misspelled but heard all the same

a pen breaks when the heart is used