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The Fear of your Love

In the valley of the dolls love is out of control
Peace and quiet more than any heart can hold
Moving on sure is healthy but it ain’t good for your soul
The birds fly insane wrapped in dark cotton wool
The virgin mother gives birth to what is already old
Outlaws and carpenters do as they’re told
The lonely shepherd keeps his word from returning to fold
Sweethearts and immigrants die together out in the cold
The remains of the day found at the place of the skull
I fold my hands, walking the grassy knoll
I’ve travelled too far but not far enough
No-one standing up to carry this broken cup
Regret is piling up and I can’t feel the fear of your love

The war of the roses is for sale in the land of Nod
Crippled masters look like puppets on Gloomy Sunday
While classless nurses exit clean in the usual way
Gnostic punks argue the Antichrist verbatim in the Fight Club
And thieves cry freedom, praying for the death of God
While fear and loathing are overpriced in the House of God
Black Maria and St. Francis bring defiled dogs in from the cold
Seduced by morality, the forging of the iron rod
Day dreamers witness the song of Solomon foretold
Good folks celebrate false promises without the shit of God
Rye smiles served up with dry toast and salted cod
I’ve travelled too far but not far enough
No-one standing up to carry this broken cup
Regret is piling up and I can’t feel the fear of your love

Happily ever after ends in natural disaster
I step forth into laughter broken, exhausting the fumes of the sea
I turn the other cheek only to be kissed, who are you if not my enemy?
Deep inside of Gethsemane, throat deep in the mist
Malicious men disguised with cracked country lips
Take my good words as my clothes are being stripped
Beaten, I return to my vomit, with broken teeth and both feet out of joint
The back door turns on it’s hinges, swinging chair seems vacated
Temperature at boiling point
If I’d have accepted chaos I might have caught the wind
But I can’t recall the colour of anything I’ve seen
I travelled too far but not far enough
No-one standing up to carry this broken cup
Regret is piling up and I can’t feel the fear of your love

The Fear of your Love

hudson

Kingston Heights, New Zealand

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poem poetry

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  • hudson
  • Lisa  Jewell
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