Everybody has one good book in them, I am intuitively different, my brain is an explosion of never ending particles of electrified sparks encountering damp illusions completed by worries and short circuited confusions.
Friday, 8 January 2021
Thursday, 7 January 2021
%}#€$&: - Crazy
A little bit crazy is fine, a little bit crazy is fun, a little bit crazy can be undone, a little bit crazy is comedy sublime, so long as a little bit crazy is not all the time.
A whole lot crazy is noticed quick, a whole lot crazy allows plenty of magic for a crazy trick, a whole lot crazy is dangerous if your the leader of the free world and people believe in your rhetoric
Power crazy is the way to fast leading, power crazy leaves others suffering and bleeding, Power crazy should never be mixed with a little bit crazy or whole Crazy as it brings out the worst in people rich or lazy
I must confess of being a little bit of all three, so I have dinner for breakfast and breakfast for tea.
Wednesday, 6 January 2021
I will walk to paradise
I whisper in the whispering gallery, I talk on the phone, I shout in an empty room when I’m all alone
I Jive in the hall, I trot on the road, I sing in the shower so nobody knows
I take photos with my mind, I smile with my eyes, I kill all my enemies in a moment of mime
I live in peace, I die with hunger, I was much too late to stop no mans land as a runner
I scream on a mountain, I close my eyes to auschwitz, I heard the Berlin wall crumble, roll over and tumble
I was born a Christian, I grew up a Christian, I entered the war a Christian, I shot a Christian, then one day, I’ll die a Christian.
Through the tunnel
I ventured into darkness, sorrow taking my soul, nothing that is new to me, forever in a hole, for when a child, I sped through the river tunnel under Greenwich, before realisation pounced upon me that I had the sheer panic of returning back home, once more alone
A long tunnel it is, my mind is in a tizz, wishing the lights were brighter, focusing on the end, petrified of what I may find, a bend is up ahead, leaving tragedy behind, searching for a peaceful, colourful sign, twisting, turning, a long way up, sweating and burning forever yearning.
Irrespective of the timepiece I wear upon my wrist, I keep on going, just cannot resist, up every slope, down every cavern, around every twist, the devils brace is clasped on tight, I fear a sharp turn leading deep on to the right, Continually searching for the bright white light, floating way up on the sail in the wind of a kite
A journey Once travelled, a chancing delay, once again on the road that leads to dismay, forever a struggle though no fault of mine own, a stone ridden road that I have travelled til’ grown, snakes bite my ankle, shoes leak with rain, forgiveness unknown, then I will go there again, future in doubt, past left in tatters, I am alive today and the fact is what matters.
Saturday, 2 January 2021
un français qui passe
Grey skies above when I fell in love, Sodden were my shoes when I first saw you
Crazy with drink, laced with drugs, a glance of the moment we slowly hugged
A mystical swirling mist when we partook a kiss or was it just smoke from your cigarette of bliss
A memory etched into my fragile mind, an Andy Warhol piece of art, of a very different kind
When at last I saw you vomit on your dress, that was the last time ever but I could have guessed
Your friends called a taxi then you were gone, now I’ll never forget the moment, we danced to that bloody song
L’AVENTURIER INDOCHINE, I saw your perfect moves in the Music Machine, freedom to express but always too keen
Au revoir je t'aime, à la prochaine were the parting words that were spoken, I’ll never see you again.
Sunday, 27 December 2020
Not a mere fish
It was not a mere fish he caught, radically a benign flounder, created from a dream by an overseeing founder, deep within the knowledgeable mind of a strumming, drumming sounder, as a child banging tins with a hardened rubber pounder, dipping his rod into the lake that’s perpendicularly rounder, it was not a mere fish he caught as he sat on the ground, aah
Tuesday, 22 December 2020
Falling at 16
Shimmy Shammy overwhelmingly clammy, slipped and fell, unbelievably Jammy, landed in a pile of builders sand, my friend looked down, said “you alright, can I lend a hand?”, no damage done, although it was not fun, frightened to the hoof, when I fell from that roof. Just winding up the electric lead, falling backwards at quite a speed, the lesson I learned back then, thus far is, never walk under the safety bar.
“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti."
Quietly I wish to travel onwards tremor the thunderous anxiety it rules thy desperation for peace Lord God knows the desire of our heart ...
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Glance at the phone, contacting no-one, letters unopened, see bygones be gone, lie in a darkened room, while not wanting to venture outsid...
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Clean light does not shine here anymore magnolia walls have become dirty to the floor grey linoleum floors sticky past directional tape the...
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Movement is to do, better still not! It is a feeling, a moment in time a thought or a critique sublime never mind the bullshit be easy on ...