Ancestors, 

The ones I met

The ones i didn't meet

If we go back long enough

We all sprouted from the same source

Anamensis

Class of mammalia

Family of hominidae 

Order of primates

Started flaking crude stone 

A fossil now

Our mysterious elusive forebears

Those not quite visible beings

Liberated from form they dance eternally

A past created for the living

The wistful fantasy that fits our own dreams of an afterlife

Where is it that they belong?

Where is it that I belong?

Do the dead need music?

I am a future ancestor

What is there to remember?

It is costly for the years have sped on.

A wintery monday, cobbled alleys, stone walls, drifting mist and barren trees, early darkness, a chill on your bones.

The room where we slept owned by a friend of a friend we never met, a bruised carpet 

A corner window where we applied our makeup

Invisibility

Let me dance

To soar from the ordinary

Hidden behind masks

Free 

From judgement - mostly your own.

Or does that remain? 

When all is over, the chalk washed away,

the lipstick smeared?

No feathers, no rainbows

No steel drums, no sequins

Just boorish drunkenness

And groping, fumble, fondle and fish

A perfect stranger in the throngs, we didn't speak, utter, declare

Only our tongues were raging, coming up for air

So hungry for love i was

For excitement and for daring, for feeling special

In the name of liberty 

Carne vale; farewell meat.

In the last hours before lent

relent 

relent 

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