Picture by Banksy
trouble, trouble,boils and bubbles
with the bedroom tax, a storm is brewing
as the government makes their friends rich,
while making the rest of us poor,
with their voices of capital drown our song.
Time for some love making, time to keep warm,
feel the touch and comfort of raptures arms,
taste and feel the anchor of love,
that makes their power redundant,
in acts of unconditional embrace.
Surrender to gentle heartbeat,
that simultaneously melt and mend,
in the morning awake,
paint the days with passion,
follow ports of possibility.
We wake make buds,
then petals, then leafs.
in the other direction,
we struggle on,
hand on hand
shoulder to shoulder,
draw breath, reach out
resusicate hungry mouths,
ah, it's a beautiful feeling
this thing called love.