Boldly The Hum

Write It Out In Blood,
In The Fat Of Your Fathers,
In The Keeping Of Heritage,
Spontaneous And Bricked,
For Dryed-Up Husks Grasping At Cognac,
For High Minstrels Of Abbey-Born Winds,
As They Push The Cornets With FingerTips UnYielding,
To Stab The Notes And Bear The Seed,
For Dieing Breeds Of Militant Pressures,
Under Skins Not Worn With Wine,
To Be Forgotten,
To Be White-Washed,
To Marbled Keeps And Flickering Wrists,
For Time To March In Burr And Fervour,
When Spurred... When Sparred,
For The Crowded Din On Streets,
Then To The Sweeping Away Of Sleep And Solstice.