Nice Times and Not

 Well, it's the right colour for a Bullfinch....

Black Sun.


This deep and exotic trip,
Reveals, as has done before,
The orange peel behind the zip,
And the window behind your door.

To escape from form and state of mind,
Is simple and so easy to do,
The dark place within to find,
The off-switch to the life of you.

Soaring above crystalline carpets in heat,
Inward visions so quick slows time,
Face to face at last you can meet,
Paisley guides and trickle rhyme.

But all is well now darkness escape,
So tempting, fleeting, like a loaded gun,
Like some hyper-techno video tape,
Diving beyond this internal sun.

Accept this deep dark slow, and coma,
Will arrive, envelope and entrance,
Will love and then get to know you,
And join this termination dance.

 

 "Moss Edge Farm" (Above)

Candle Wax

 

Candle wax and smell of joss buddha chains

in the shadowy attic floor room

help to let him sell the idea

that all is connected in threads of fate

like kharma with dancing flame

and moments of pure anger

seem five times longer

than those beauty mornings in bed

with your favorite and loving cup wonder

and have a smoke with a new friend

before the true ideas whisper themselves

infinitely quiet in the back of your chair mind

where I like to sit and drink your perfume

from time to time I like to see out of your eyes

and listen to your mind and sit and play ideas

on your song line down

the glass empty will rattle in an unsteady hand

on the bartop with swilling ash and we smoke again

while outside the darkness echoes

to scrawny nightcrawlers in madness and cold dirt

fox scavenger treading through the alleys of your life

and the childhood that you attempt to recreate

in exaggerated form

and when you stroll in to my nightmares

with garish abandon I imagine seeds of a love

that can never be real or for me

but the attraction is physically killing my insides

while caffeine and sleepless nights sing

heart pounding chants in my neck and chest

and arms and in this candle wax light

round midnight December first and second

I think of myself

as always there's no reply and I pretend to sleep

in this smoky over heated self imposed self imagined

prison cell in a single double bed

on the floor

in the corner

with the future sitting in before me.

 The "Black Rabbit" of Watership Down is real.... Who knew??

Crashing.

Some crashes happen for no reason, madness,

Others create them, forlorn, understated belief,

That it'll all just work its way through...

The articulated dream, hybrid, mad thing, mad thinking,

Took you to caves, to dark twittering, caves that drank you in...

The ambulance couldn't get, snowed in by your early decisions,

But we lie here with its blue lights, on the bedroom ceiling,

It's sirens in our hearts.

#############

Be safe, be happy, be you. Simple.

No, it's just not is it? Not when you over-think everything, like, ever.......