Where My Soul Resides Like A Flightless Hawk Poem by Mark Heathcote

My heart fossils alive…
Like an empty conch shell
It'll sing in this world or the next
Before it rots or burns in the bowels of hell.
Holding on to its last…
Carbon copy corrupt lungs its last breaths
Notwithstanding the minutes, before I die.
And pass on by…

I'll whistle like a train, I'll howl and I'll cry
On… again for you! For you! (…again)

Embedded in these chalk white cliffs
Where my soul resides like a flightless hawk
Glowing in the shadows
I'll scan the waves near and far apart and never
Relinquish a single forward backward step,
Until; my waves cutting talon's
Come near - crashing clawing over you
Near. Crashing; lusting over you again.

I'll whistle like a train, I'll howl and I'll cry
On… again for you! For you! (…again)

My heart fossils alive
Like an empty conch shell
In heaven or in hell
In this or the next world obligingly it whistles again.
For you!