Peter Lilly: Poems

I chase blue breath, grinding teeth on the brickwork of now. Bury your computer in the soft rubble of churned nature. Which secrets do you want to dwell inside, Those of copper or chlorophyl? I chase the sweet misery of warm rain; more fruitful for sentience than dry buildings. Insipid barricades shelter infant nerves from all feeling and thus from growth. A Poem about why I like to be outside. Written March 2013.

Time occasionally escapes its narrow tube of transport in waves of influence. There is one event so significant it feels like it is ever repeating because it's always unfolding in freshly realised implications, new dimensions of completion and pristine epochs of accomplishment. It is an event of bloody terror, an event of merciful healing. It is an event of violent killing, and event of peaceful giving. It is an event of overwhelming sorrow, an even of heart-deep joy. It is an event of whips and nails, an event of captives freed. It is an event of a cry forsaken, an event comfort for the isolated. It is an event of naked humiliation, an event of shame concealed. It is an event of goodness silenced, an event of amplified perfection. It is an event of blind condemnation, an event of liberating conviction. It is an event of ultimate death, an event of unquenchable life. Time did escape its narrow ...