he hangs up flowers and bells and rhymes...

i'm on my hands and on my knees
feeling for a ground i knew existed
i'm on my bed, my tippie-toes
reaching for a sky my eyes have missed

i palm the ceiling, keep on pushing
maybe i'll lift this house from inside
i drop, drop my stare, and start to hear
the missing sky, hissing on by
hissing by...

------------

with babel god split the tongues
the forked tongue holders, the ants
split and seperate
and the giant vertical bridge sat
unfinished

encoded with different sounds
and scattered like leaves in a breeze
the babblers died and were born
built and unbuilt
discovered and took over
created and destroyed
grew and shrunk
and grew again

and the leaves drifted
to the ground
looking like a swing
attached to nothing but air
and landed next to each other
and hated each other
but couldn't look away from each other
those forked tongues hypnotizing, wagging
making those hisses - different and wrong sounding
indifferent and ugly sounding
building the hate...
up to the heavens