KOM KOM

 Kom kom, the sound of a perceived emptiness

That rattles, metal gongs, anvil and the mallet.

The sound of hullaballoo with no rest cause

Wandering the day in idleness and lofty loaves

Its ignorance as bitter as almond freshers

The depth of it hollow; the deep blue sea

Basemen with no sight and gen

Who wangle the day as no nights come again

And dead night when oil lamps awake are

Snoring buffalos sniffing for darkness

In all comfort as Judas on a kiss.

Lies still and watch the day arise

Clocking to and fro time pending flees

Whilst wisdom waste in books you read not

And your faculty withers the chorus and refrain.

And your course of Sophia waste in ashes

As in your lousy morning chores

Evening vespers and night scholarships

And the sound of your emptiness eluding,

Chorusing Handel’s Messiah on B minor

Dilapidating, withering, sneering, you die away.

Kom kom iti kom kom the chorus dies fades