Sketches Of Spain/The Ballroom Poem by Joshua Lewis White

Sombre sunset behind a dark cloud
Somewhere a bell tower calls out/singing
The sound of a guitar can be heard, crying
In the flesh
In the flesh?
In the flesh? ?
When does the horizon become the sky?
Light pours in through the windows of the ballroom
Shafts of crystal light reflecting from within
A sharp dressed man wanders into the streetlight
Death enshrouds his sight
A skeleton escapes from a cab, pulling out a letter from between his robes
His ribs shine between the cloth
A head full of confusion
A bed full of nothing
An empty book, an empty head, an empty mind
A small house beside a lake looks terrified in the light of the moon
Will we ever get out of here?
(A songbird sings)
Climbing a ladder going nowhere,
Climbing stairs that lead to the beggining of time
Nowhere/No-one/Nothing
A record store, a spiral staircase
The colour blue becomes all that one can see
As the angels fall from the ground
Spanish skies, a fallen glove
Between the fields lies a secret passageway
A ballroom dancer topples gently, spinning
Light pours in through the windows of the ballroom
Paradise/Paradise/PARASITES/Paradise
As the book falls, so does the author, the poet, the creator
Light fades out
Darkness enshrouds the mind as time starts playing in slow motion
This is the end
Is this the end?
Light no longer pours through the windows of the ballroom
This is the end.
Is this the end?