No Exits ~ Exist On

NO EXITS ~ EXIST ON

In the car park
of a stark oblivion
best to leave
your engine running
Don’t plug the spark
Don’t phone it home
all on your own
in the brooding dark
If you’ve got the app
of a beating heart
with an overflowing cup
don’t text it to the exit
like some Brexit
lost in transit
with Boris in the forest
So therefore go forth
and Sexit up …
if you really must

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On the Road … Again

Amongst the many
merry little elves
reaching for the light
and the servants of pain
dwelling in the dark
I spent a lifetime bent
circling the drain
of that astral plain
within my brain
A message sent
Called by name
somewhere between
insanity and vanity
“Be wholly sane!
And baby …
don’t forget to repent!”

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The Hawaiian Motel

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I was staying at
the Surfer’s Paradise
Hawaiian Motel
a Wild Turkey in hand
slowly defrosting
in a cyclonic swell
when the news broke
… the King of Rock
had just fatally fell
He could rhythm & blues
the whole jail house block
from a cell
at the Heartbreak Hotel
And then
in his blue suade shoes
gospel all the way
to the edge of reality
Heaven’s pearly gates
now blown straight to hell

Mosquitoes and neon buzzing
as the No Vacancy sign
flickers on
at the Surfer’s Paradise
Hawaiian motel

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The Seasons

“It is something to be deep
in the snow in Winter,
to be deep in the yellow leaves
in Autumn, to be deep
in the ripe wheat in Summer,
to be deep in the grass in Spring.”
~ Vincent van Gogh

In the shallows
just below
the translucent skin
of Spring
an opal blue explosion
awaiting
the grand thaw of awe
to begin
The riverbank
in springtime
A chestnut tree
in blossom
dances along
the sparkling spectrum
Under a sky rent by light
on a starry starry night
Is seeing too much
beyond your place in time
ever
and always
the crime?

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Sailing High in Creation

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Riding the bounds
Sailing high in creation
Things that astound
on the wing
in the deep
and under the ground
Yet consciousness
hard up against the glass
of this broken existence
Confiscated by the State
as a piece of degenerate art
then sold as a slave
to the black market of fate
I made the big break
for the heights of Montmartre
A spirited defence
yet only token the resistance
at the cutting edge
of forsaken circumstance
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