Golden Boy

How do you store light the way everyone else only stores life
How have you trapped the heat of a thousand suns
When I can only hold on to the warmth of one
And how did you create this magic field
And when did you become my angelic shield
And how do you fend of the demons that I didn’t know I didn’t need
Did you know you do all that whilst the rest of us merely breathe
There is so much magic circling your palms
But I pray it’s only me who is captivated by your charm
And If you stay a while, I promise I’ll help you hide
It’s really fucking selfish, but it’s so that no one else finds out
That under that smile is the source of our light, and a secret gold mine.

by Taran Cheema

Sense

peter page.pngPilgrims bound by empathy
Return to the mines of entropy,
Guided by the Godly wisdom
Of Corpus Christ’s stockholm syndrome.

Sunlight shines just behind
The corrupted loom of woodland,
And canopies shade the soil
From what the clarity would lend.
By the charity of bondage
They weigh every next decision.

Nearing an open clearing,
Their minds are forcefully undressed,
And visions rhyme out
As they stand in their arrest:

A mound of broken shackles,
Liberty buried beneath.
The sound of spoken silence,
Swords wielded without sheath.
A room with four walls and no door —
A room with a ceiling and no floor.

 

by Peter Page