From an unofficial sound within
Perpetual motion of recurring dream
Where nothing make sense without that a…
And all the while
While overplayed as forever is
I was noticed travelling hazardously
On a tidal surge
From debris to ever flaking debris
As to be floating somewhere still.
It was endless
And then it was a sunset morning
With no time to kill.
And you walked in
Like you owned not the place
But the place that you’re in
And you sailed through
Like your heart pumped the waves
When the waves needed you
Im not so sure
On these stories told
When you think you know more
And want less
As you grow old
I thought i could hear something in a song once;
When my radio tuned itself in to sing to television.
Only, television phoned in, needing a show to see how it was written,
Ruining the whole near damn perfect experience… for the sake of entertainment.
I awoke to two drunks singing
My peace stinging like lost bees sipping honey
I was gonna vent
But alas I had no bucket of shit to fling
As distance intervened by sleepy syringe
Being emptied of any fuss
I dreamt heavy
So unable to navigate with a bus
He didn’t sing naturally to their tune, because they lacked all the right notes as he entered the room.
The repetitive patterns in the winter leaves made Clarke feel like he was playing on a carpet; from a once forgotten lounge.
Swallowed by the forest, the air felt milder; an invisible, unscented smoke hovered high above the refrigerated mince of woodland soil.
On the ‘Otherside’ (from beyond the ditch) were perfect branches and twigs a plenty; perfect for finishing the greatest den.
Clarke jumped into the ditch whole-heartedly, a ditch created by the landing of a clumsy giants arm, and he disappeared toe to head in the deepest, softest patch of leaves imaginable.
Miraculously, Clarke discovered he was on the ‘otherside’. Standing there, looking on at his parents; they seemed statuesque in their mid stretch and bend to collect their woody additions.
‘Mum… Dad?’ He called out to them nervously.
They couldn’t hear him or see him, for they may as well of been painted on canvas and hung as stillife in a hallway.
Clarke panicked, and jumped into the very same patch of leaves.
Relief immediately surged through Clarke’s small frame… He felt he was somewhere safe after all. Clarke ran like a bouncing, rolling jack to his parents who continued to forage with renewed vigor.
The traffic rushes by
Like the memories in my head
And the day is upon me
As soft tyres lose their tread
All the roads blur smooth
Like yesterdays future news
And the day is upon me
What rushes is still in cruise
All i know is…
And all you know
is what i show
In the here and now…
Show me the precise moment;
when your unfamiliar sky is at its exact height to which you can now call it sky.
As the unrest in the clouds
representing thoughts of an entire planets inhabitants clear; to reset control.
The bizarre kettle-shaped spaceship, suddenly turns off its powerful engine of raging bubbles. Now, both young boys listen intensly, to the slow, muted, thud of footsteps… from the creepy bottom step… to the agonisingly close and creaky top step of the stairs.
But it’s soon after those footsteps stop, after the deathly silence they create, when something that sounds as light as a balloon, and travelling in the unnatural breeze of the night; bumps innocently light, then mysteriously heavier (again and again) onto the exposed floorboards of the landing.
Luke (the younger ) suddenly remembers that in the most recent past, he had found ‘the landing’ very confusing, because nothing that he was aware of… until now, had ever landed there.
I don’t mean to be boring
Or feel need to be liked
I don’t want to seem pretentious
Or told that was well typed
I don’t try to be fo sunny
Or morose for the sake of you!
I don’t write because i love weather
I write to keep my shit together!