Golem Society by DyfeddBardd

Golem Society (grinding millwheel)
(Golems are from Israeli mythology)

Dark brown grey in a wet damp lump
Dries to a leather beach colour
The maker’s hands also dry,
Flakes of clay dishevel from the skin.

Ready for the kiln, to be enflamed
Are there any exploding cracks?
After to perform a wizardry channel
Like wind, it howls within.

Its outer form to feel, now to be owned
A pot enacted, intact is easy to sell
If broken, then a vessel of defiance,
Leaking out what was once within.

Indeed, clay is just mud
And it is a beautiful –
Hand turned terracotta figurine
From the wheel of the potter.

Glastonbury’s puppet, like a Golem,
Mechanical controls within of
psychic driving. In the stomach
The gear stick moves into position.

Hay hoe, the thatched winker
Sand grind, insulate the house
Straw and mud mix, a hut to be in
With a friend of a mouse.

Oh, tears from the hill
To gather to form a rill.
Turning the millwheel of parastition
From the overflow spill.

I am but a dreamer, my music, sounds and words try to portray a journey, a dreamscape, a musicscape.

I am influenced by 'Future Sound of London'

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