Peter Gabriel Haiku



Sound floats in the air
Peter of the gentle tones
And the husky voice.

The flowers on his head
Sparkle and flash with brilliance
Of Narcissus' fire.

Lying on the bed
List'ning to his angel voice
I sigh quietly.

In Rael's waiting room
There sits a quiet lady,
Moonlight in her hair.

The music weaves ghosts
Drawn forth fromt their cold, damp graves
To sing with his voice.

He plays ping-pong well
Avoiding the album work
Tony drinks coffee.

Those damn funk fingers
They weave their espresso spell
And Pete stops working.

The waiting is long
But still, we know that in time,
Pete will be finished.

Ten thousand cassettes
But still the foul addiction
To Peter is there.