Echo..

A distant sky..faint sunbeam..

roaring winds of thunder-spleen..

we heard a little bit of me in you

and you in me,that makes two..

(Echo..echo..echo..

A whisper in my soul..

Echo..echo..echo..

A silent windfall,young now old..)

Breakfast at wonder-lane,

Gale-profound on the Spanish main..

I've seen your storms,and I've walked on

thought..

I've mixed some rum with a spot of port..

(Echo..echo..echo..

A whisper in my soul..

Echo..echo..echo..

A silent windfall,young now old..)

There've been times I've left to give it up

And never seen the light above..

halo,wings and sceptre gold..

With ether light,in my body old..

but now it's time to simmer down..

now it's time to wipe that frown..

Cause the sound that comes gushing back..

Is my own whirlpool,river black..

Echo..echo..echo..

You've taught me who I've been..

Echo..echo..echo..

Strength is had,from deep within..

Married to a Vagabond Dream

Parallel roads on a windblown

Mountain..

Campfire,smokes and whispers

Unfounded..

Ricebowl trophy,Trailer park,

Panorama lady,

Kisses my eye and

Pulls a kaleidoscope smile..

I saw a shadow looming In my dreams,

And chocolat In my blood,

I picked up a dozen rucksacks strong,

And set off In a diamond truck..

She pulls me away on a piper's

Hymn,On a solemn autumn morn,

Minstrel she,with a wildflower gown,

With roving eyes and wanderlust..

(and I say)

Sing me a Gypsy song,

And I'll play you the tambourine;

I've lost my phone,laptop's gone blank..

And I'm married to a vagabond dream

Ivory Poison

A tinge of bittersweet

Temptation binds my soul

With gossamer strands

And Magnetic Silver..

I sip from the petals of

The Cloistered buds,their

gentle dewy nectar...

Gentle? Sugary? Nada,

Nil,

It smacks of Hemlock,

It Immolates,

It Holds forth and does it's will,

And leaves the self ravished..

I Know not where to go with it,

This ill-nurtured child, This half-stark

Lunacy,

Yet I know all along what I want to do

With it,to surrender,weak-kneed,and

Yield to the all-encompassing,

With orgasmic exaltation and

Debauched dissipation..

Ay,I admire the Light-Bearer,
For he yields to the ticklish

Flames of narcissism..

He Knows he has a choice,

And chooses to Transgress..

Evil? Bravado,more or less..

There I teeter.

On the edge of the chalice

Of gold,Fool's Gold,

I'll taste the Ivory poison

Within,

Denigrate me,O Holier-than-thou,

But never shall you know..

My ampitheatre

I've lain against the concrete,

And felt Savannah grass..

I've felt the moist brown dew

Where none but dry dust blew..

I've seen the studs of diamond-lore,

And Ink on a white screen frame..

You'd never know what sex you ooze..

In yon half-closed silent stare..

I grab my mike,

(My pencilbox,so there)

And squint at the dark

Bright lamps..

My audience is naught but

Grey jungles and brown trees,

Bearing the brunt of mankind's

Lost romance,conquest incomplete..

The whisps of cottonwool,they

Call Cirrus(yeah,Minor),

Form rings around me,with

Crests for backrests,and troughs for the weight..

And there comes my smokescreen blue,

Of itself wondrous thin..

I smell the thin sweet odour of blank expectancy,

While my noble crowds,they wait..

And once again I'm lost in the Haze,

With melodies unchained..

My ampitheatre comes to life,

I've taken centre-stage..

A morning of nights

woken up to the sound of horns,

The taste of sweaty damp air,

With the poison of the dreamy

Down of sleep within me..

I taste the hostility in the air,

And poke out one eye,

I look around with filmy eyes,

the filthy morning sunshine.

It deludes me,this sunshine

Of moonshine,

It works dust into my eyes,

it shrouds it's clouds in

folds of blue light,

And it shocks and deceives

the dull dark glow of

The shining night's prelude.

Give me night for I can hide,

Give me sleep for I must not wake,

Give me rest for I'm far too worn,

Take me away before morn comes again..

Davy Jones' Locker

He went down to his

Watery grave,

Of sea-weed,and

Octopussy..

He fell down on the

Rocky wave,

With Flounder

And Ariel,Laughing at him..

He'd been prodded,

And poked,and Piqued,

And Ruined,

But he'd grinned,and he'd borne it..

The salty Green sea,It

Roared with Life and it plopped with death,

And He dropped to the enigma,

His end and his place,

He'd died in action,He'd given it all Up,

He was to be trapped,

For evermore,

In Davy Jones' Locker...

Dots On My Astronomy Chart

To a dedicated astronomer,His Planets,Suns And stars are his family. He lives In them,Ice-skates

On their Rings,Dines with their hitherto unknown inhabitants. He charts their course,and he Pins

Them down lovingly,pointing to where they stand proud,and look upon him,as he fancies,as part of

their family. I looked at the balls of fire last night,shaking with laughter and winking,enigmatic,yet

So familiar. They soon dissolved,in their stead,there came to my soothed senses,the faces of those

I See awake in my slumber. They laugh with me,they laugh at me;They cry with me,but not at me;they bring me memories of the days of pants which would now serve as mere underwear. One reminds me of the pangs and turns of my heart,the humanness of my body,the being of myself,

And I kiss It In gratefulness,to know I still feel,to know My soul smolders within me...

...The scene shifts back to the inky ocean above me,with distant lighthouses twinkling. I looked at my image reflected against the orbs,and It looked back,winking benignly now,even knowingly. In it's eyes I read myself,and the fireballs around it smiled-They had plotted for me my astronomy chart-My path around those I orbit..

An Obituary..

He'd had no grand send off,

He lay forgotten amongst

The Freshly minted grass;

Frost lying deep upon

His bony heart,

Wrought thin..

They hadn't come

to wave him away,

Say a mean:

"adieu,mon ami";

For of these he'd had none-

who would mark the

Stone with One drop

Of salt..

And there he lies,to this day,

Frozen,though it be warm;

Gentle face tense,

curled ears

Strained to Hear,

A grain of wistfulness

Of some true remembrance,

From a ghost of Christmas Past..

Scent

It lingered,

Pervading the pores of my

furniture,and painting my hair

lilac..

A little implausible notion

Stirred In my forebrain..

It comes from within,

But NOT without..

I release the shackles of my tongue

and taste the virgin flavour

Of wanton dreams,

that the perfume carried on its

Wingless flight..

And sank into a gentle oblivion

Of thoughts foretold but never

acknowledged..

I'd know it now in any gathering,

Of smells and sights and sounds,

It'll strike my senses and make me

aware of how insignificant my material

Lies..

But I'll know they can't take it from me

Not in a thousand years,

I'll be lain in slumber,

But I'll always have,

That lingering essence in every smile..

Nausea

Tossing and turning,In his little Green Ocean,He felt a hand on his shoulder..Above him,the sky glowed a sinister silver,yet

Spotless blue..A mix of iridescence One cannot describe..He ruffled his feathers,and unzipped his jacket,and Put on a much

warmer woolen overcoat. He dug his hands in deep and pulled out some yellow fragment of a page. It was sort of triangular,but

with slight perforations,flaky-a morsel of a past long forgotten..And he wondered how he could have become such a masochist,

Wandering the moory edges of his imagination..A grey spectral existence..And then he looked down at the grave..His own

wrecked brain had played horse polo with his guts..The rough waters of his thought had played with him,pulling out weedy green

splinters from his once-shiny speedboat..He recalled,and there flashed a rare moment of animal relish at how this had all

come to pass,His name on that grave he saw clearly..And then he shuddered,wiped the corners of his slightly pale mouth,coming

away with vomit,He hadn't done it really,he could never have...