Room in the east invested with meanings,
Open to none but the strange and the wild
Sunset encounters with destiny's chances,
Envelopes marked for the personal life
Night falling, hiding the poets transgression,
Blown in the winds of aquarian tides
Echoed words spoken by token romantics
Rock 'n roll supermen,
Ghosts of new vice.
Making love in strange autos whilst lifes ink
sings always
That love is swift arrows my dear
Oh, God in some heaven whose number
is seventeen
Dressed you in blue jeans this year
To torment my soul
Oh, leave me alone...
Rules to be broken by reckless and young men,
Odes to be written by passions sick hand
Seeds to be sown on the rich fields of promise,
Ends and beginnings that never quite meet
Nothing of value that hasn't yet vanished,
Brown-eyed and wise as the feminine fates
Evening's sweet menace, revealing, inviting,
Highways to paradise
Grey lines of grace.
Making love in strange autos whilst lifes ink
sings always
That love is swift arrows my dear
Oh, God in some heaven whose number
is seventeen
Dressed you in blue jeans this year
To torment my soul
Oh, leave me alone...
---
From Phil Brookes
More Love Is Swift Arrows
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