A Season’s Trial – for Jos

the season came with its own promises

but good harvest meant more smoked asses

when dreams would be kicked into abyss

hunters jumped into the field

harvested souls not for salvation

but as redemption for vaporised love

a fertile soil for retaliation

the ground was planted with

coaled skins

breached spirits

and whipped bones

hopeful scythes detached necks from bodies

daggers dragged inside; outside as web expo

vile red - and a heavy cry-fall hit the land

women’s scream fed the soils with humour

nerves bloomed into waiting roll of bullets

fallen flowers, now wilted, littered grounds

but there is no child to pick them into leis

and on clay laid clay which the turf rejected;

tomorrow stayed awake, but in bloody clumps

amber defined the colour in the men’s eyes

demoed their dreams as un-fleshed pieces

Agony sprang up vigilantes to keep guard

But the rain of red, didn’t cease to fall

The soggy soil drew a notice for stranger

Attn: fear and anger defends this area