The Tale of Revati

Revati, goddess of love and war, this be her tale

There was sunset in her navel there was ginger in her ale. 

far away, where sunlight meets moonlight and sunlight and moonlight meet twilight and sunlight and moonlight and twilight swim across this river made of monograms and epitaphs of coldly dead ghosts of the city, 

drenched in blood of love and hate 

waters rose like waters rise

i was to keep the keys hidden

i was to speak to the guts of silence 

when the nights were naked and the days were silver 

and she stood at the shores, and she hummed a tune or two

and we offered little flowers to the mist 

and there were kisses for mercy to befall. 

this was long long ago

ask the relics, they might know. 

and then the plague came

footsteps drowned

angry ants marched out from hell

i saw ballerina as she swam across

i saw dogs dodging the booms 

it was a lot and it wasn't much

for nothing to be and for everything to not-be

Mr Sorrow, he wore his hat in style

and smoked his last cigar

as balloons flew all night by the sea

and tears dripped down the cherry tree

and the shadow rang its bells of doom

and the lovers hated and the haters loved 

and the last kisses were kissed and the last daggers were drawn

the phone rang at 5

the phone rang at 6

the earth was a cake

the sky was a sky

and thus it all happened

before the houses marched out

and there was music in the leper colonies

and there was music in the heart of guts 

and there was music in the guts of heart

and there was music. 

and then there was more music

and everything was music 

and everywhere was music

and everyone was music

Revati, she raises her glass of blue wine

and she sheds her clothes one by one

and she walks up to me

and she is a princess from picture-books on Egyptian history 

and my head is tied to the canvasses

my feet are stuck on the windchimes

my teeth beget stoic laments 

for the ghosts sing songs of places were sunlight and moonlight and twilight become one

and there isn't anything else 

but for strange places to go

and deep inside there's this bright bordello 

where the women don smiles of sorrow

and the world drowns in their fond folds

that's where lonely people go

when the ants march back 

and find rice of love 

in places with faces 

that they have never looked at before

and Revati, she closes her door

and i lug my shadow down

and you lug your shadow down

and we lug our shadows down

to the edges of this ghost-town

where the stars lose their trumpets tonight.