poem: war of the worlds/calling to archangels – 25/01/22

Brother and Sister

The brothers come closer
they materialise into view
expecting the expectant dame to cry ‘adieu adieu’
but she will not fall
like a tree in the quiet woods she will not be felled,
not even by a dark witch doctor with
many alibis to tell.

he holds the keys,
swings with her melodies,
he rhymes and rhymes,
in unison in style,

like youngest and child they sing to the heavens,
mother mary they smile at her,
the archangels they call to them.

these two are kindred in some type of way,
spirits never lost yet reunited by purpose,
shall we say?
but the truth of the matter is
they both have their own loves
they only sing together like gentle sparrow and dove. 

who is the M who is L?
who is the character that is perceived as
well?
is it the minority,
is it the victim mentality,
or is it completely another character,
the malicious son of an entity?

We shall continue this broadcast of enmity
shortly,
let us recommence dictating World War Three.

Nacht.

Copyright 2022 Lauren M. Hancock. All right reserved.

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