belinda suzette art, illustration and design

today is a day for washing
the wind levels the long grass of the drying green

this wind sweeps wide in the highlands, there's naught a tree to check its campaign. the beauty of it inspires me to weep, and words corrupt. i can't help but moon over, how the rape of a landscape, so long ago that
no-one remembers the bears roar or
the wolves howl, still
bewitching violation, its what i adore in you now.

i had a dream about an inbetween place
where every little unwanted ugly offal ended up
anuisance ground surrounded
by a plush green esker
and the empty dell imbued with the sum total of everything.

everything rotted and addled and spoiled and ranked.
it afflicted and grieved and injured and upset.
the glass degraded to glitter
the plastic deliquesced and smelted
timber mildewed
steel staled
colours were born
light refracted
rainbows danced

and the inbetween land was a rudimentary flowering ground for new and unknown marvel.
a pie in the sky silver lining i know, but i'm always partial to dark in my sanguineness.