Molten rocks
For swollen scars
Eruptions
Disruptions for woken souls
Madagascar
Fallen stocks
For open stars
Corruptions
Disruptions for spoken calls
Ayres rock
Risen shock
For shaman shahs
Expulsions
Disruptions for fallen walls
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
Eruptions
Disruptions for woken souls
Madagascar
Fallen stocks
For open stars
Corruptions
Disruptions for spoken calls
Ayres rock
Risen shock
For shaman shahs
Expulsions
Disruptions for fallen walls
Distraction; rise early in the morning
Without outward conversation
Conversing in silence, in prayer
Minds in a meditative clean slate state
Washed by our own meandering
Centred, entering nothingness, not loss
Making space for some other, another’s message
Making space for some other, another’s invitation
Making space and ambiance to surround you
Clear mind for to think, think clear thoughts through
Think without sinking down to the inner depths
Or climbing false escalations, or wieldy expectations
Setting simple preparations
To raise a tide on an even keel
Not stealing another’s visualisations
Except for some that share the cross
But it does’t need to be religions
And it does not necessarily mean faith
What it is that I am after
Is not to be led, not led nor fed, by distraction
To derive salvation, discovering inner satisfaction
From doubt without to an inner clarity of vision
A lucidity returning, thoughts thought that I’d lost
Brooding for another’s group I’m now removing
Wood shedding this blessing I’m smoothly grooving
How, you know, watch me let my best friend grow
How, let my friend remember, let go, for to grow
An island in the summer
Sons of summer’s sun
A beach, way down from my land
Down for the summer
An island in the summer
Your island’s downs, astound throughout the summer
Your island, save for your son
It is your summer’s summer
You’re my island, you are my island for the summer
My island is yours, our island for the summer
Sand washed, sun dyed
Dried out island for the summer
Bleach blonde, beach bombs
Plundered the summer’s summer
Blonde on blonde, beach bombs
Blondes for your summer
Your blonde beach bombs
Blondes play on
Through the summer’s summer
Oh my our sweet not sour, island summer
Sun dried, bleach dyed, blonde eyes
Crying out for the summer
Blondes lied, beaches tried, tied up for the summer
Tie dyed, bleary eyed
Plied up, belied for the summer
Island wide, eyelids slide
Cried up for the summer
Turning tides, island rides
All supplied, all are up for the summer
Ride away, we planned to stay
Stray away, for the summer
Dreams stranded on the sand
Stranded for another summer
Arnold
Pen strokes awake to smoke drifting far away
Smoke over mountain passes
Staining plains bought with molasses
Awake to stoke the boilers for to cruise
Arnold
Losing skilful classes, evening study, lads and lasses
Turning thoughts from study days to discotheques
Biblioteques for the masses
Clues that cruise among the shuffling stiletto shoes
Arnold
Choosing or being chosen
Stealing or being broken
Your words are my words spoken
Your solitudes are the lines I’ve chosen
Arnold
Opening and closing, in between a depth of reason
A season writing without love or muse to guide you
Ships across continents, sun and moon survive you
Choke, poke the cinders; one last fire, beside you
Arnold
Before the dark side, over away an swoon
Centuries apart, loves lost lying lonesome
Walking some solitary path from madness
Crazy diamond, life giving island, reflected moon