take your hands off me for the last time—Soft Cell
some so dark shape it was that lay
lullay as a virgin.......... squawking unto the swirls
which flitted and flattened in lissome flight
holding hard hold hard this is or ever was
more and less than............it seemed riotous
though ......................it was no more
than the long droog of several grey battlecruisers that slept in scapas
in the going
and in the rising
and in the merest scuttle
of long ice long it lay
uncovered mantled
in quiet
thoughts of men
who gave only bubbles [and giving] thus nothing
eek quickly withdrawing themselves to sterile parlours in which to rot down
laugh as sheeps ................seeing themselves daubed
don't you get it yet you should
for the scramble............. laugh still ...O they lilt they laugh
at the lift [wherein] nothing more
but sky's slow fuck of muses......................sky's slowfucked elevation
and insignificance
of all that was before
the belief that held them
in such flat & stable systems as were then proposed
as the realities of others as fire reeled down hillsides
stripping away years ugh now thereby pronounces
all involved preemptively
& retrospectively dead
all of it to be fervently undisputed forever
in the fierce favour of wingèd flight
.
.
.
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