Twenty first eleven lets listen out for heaven.

I sit real still,

in a quiet place,

leaning back,

exposing face.


Playing tones in along the scale,

till I hit this one décalé.

I stop it there and let it rest,

playing it in the ear not the best.


Then adjust the posture,

adjust the face.

Each subtile moment,

wont go to waste.


Waists shift,

hips too,

back might move,

you’ll hear it through..


Turning necks,

projectiled chins.

ears are back,

lets let the sound in.


All those neurons,

under wraps.

can only be accessed,

with movements gaps.


So roll around,

creating waves.

until that ear,

clarifies your days.


Cracking jaws,

ear pops too.

Hyoid releveling,

feeling renew.


Deeper breaths,

clearer vision.

The earth is dark,

yet up there is heaven.


Notice the kinks the chinks,

the pulsating aorta.

The reason is clear,

you have a daughter.


She’s suffered,

she’s cross,

she’s huffings,

she’s lost.


The camalian lizard,

who rules the roost.

Yet staying beautiful,

no matter the Hoost.


Completely at rest now,

tease it out.

Suspension suspension

inspection suspection.


Suspection inspection,

fair enough,

I never said,

this wasn’t gonna be tough.


If the noise has gone,

and you’d blocked it out,

It must be time,

to recalibrate.







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