Softer Than Moonshine

There’s a song that’s sung
In the gutter of daydreams
Softer than moonshine

Wooden Fruits

The improvised songs,
Boiled kettles,
Lazy Sundays in bed
With the biscuit sweats
And papers,

That painting
By the wardrobe
Of Adam and Eve
Pre-apple,

The kind of love
That closed doors
And found islands,

It was all there
Lined up
And ready
To be shot at.

They were sold
On make believe.

Young love
Is wasted on the old.

The Digital Zeus Escape

We synchronise
Eye crazes
On-line,
Off-line,
Wrestling the genius
And issuing declarations of love

As lonely dreamers design
Popular worlds,
Clouds
Familiar looking
And lost,
Undisturbed oceans,

They distribute sunglasses
With their parallels
And smile
Like they’re
Creating time.

There’s supermarket bulk,
Well purchased
And instant,
Celeb declarations,
New and widely prescribed,
A god-like nutrition
In almost existence.

We gather with great attention,
Intentions kind but belated,

We want to swap this planet
For something aggregated.

Together Forever

They felt love
And it’s constant,

It was a bit like velvet
But electric
And endless,

Transitional blankets,

The white noise
Of happiness,

The tremors
Of special;

Even when they curdled
Like milk in the sun,

Pulled hair
Till it hurt

And skirted with sanity,

They knew they would
Wrinkle and tinkle
Forever,

Together
As one,

Fallen feathers
And sun.