Sunday, 8 August 2010


When I’m well fed and well sexed
I don’t wax so poetic
The pad gets neglected
Like I narrow my perspective
Or maybe just switch
Carrying misgivings
This escape could be addictive
Am I talking what im living or just talking without giving?
If I’m not writing then I must not be fighting
Still driving just not so…driven
Picking just the right message to wear
Without sharing the body beneath
Flesh gets old
Not enough to entertain
Defiant in defence of what remains
Times tides won’t wash away what this brain contains
I’ll leave a mark and keep building
Castles in the sky
Foundations reaching for the stars
The Gods
Shaped like question marks
And forged from beats
My heart skipped
Solid flowing
When the officers of anarchy
Uphold the lawlessness
And the judges prevaricate exquisitely
Into infinity
And then
At the end of the line
She stuck fresh flowers in a tired wine bottle
With marionettes hanging
And created a home
Port and creaky floorboards
Hollow Golden Legends
Drums and thumb pianos
The summery rain
Doesn’t sound so summery
But it feels right
I’m thinking I should step outside
And touch.

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