O' Good Life Poem by Rebecca Stansfield

O' good life living beside desolation city walls,
Astray, still the fairest-
Where abandoned hearts desperate appauled,
Filled with graffiti letters of the rarest.

Sudden thinking He thinks before summer come,
Walls capture empty hallow cries-
Where thinking quickly before the summer do sprung,
Shall I lead my gorges die?

For it is that He will be summer bound,
To think he could be rising away from this in the air! -
Comes moving around without a sound,
The same summer almost silent, bare.

The flames which burn definitely piercingly,
With every crime committed done-
Burning baking exhausted, tired, timelessly,
Still committing crimes of some.

The plank of sun that vomited,
The hills and subways standing bare! -
And where all the flames eventually shed,
Most in-humane most in-to air.

By the moors passing city fear,
Vomiting flames with fierce rage-
Angle-shaped wings and bloodred tears,
Whirled by the angles into stage.

Beneath the flames and all for what?
The unapparent invisible veil? -
Unapparent which was never not,
Helping freshness kindle with the stale.

Fair features of wings holding up thee,
Where upon the loving moving-
Moving a child of adult what a child can see,
Radiant lines what should have been before providing.

From the sight of the city splendid,
Behold, voices tender-
May untangle from the all with the saints,
The cities movers gazes in their faints.

Light of earth feed off your brightest,
May not let this one time fail-
Walking-fly within the breeze of lightness,
Your winged feathers and that of your tail.

Though living life of solitude,
Move faint away from time-
Where maybe yes you slowly move,
Up the steps you need to climb.

Out of unattained mess of your misery,
May or may not return-
Which is where the faint hearted be,
You know, the kinds in refusing to yearn.

Unfair, not knowing He merely rose,
Into the sky made of bedded flower foam-
With soft motion circling out of sight,
To violin immortal tones of home.