A new jam in the can,
A pocket filled
With rumbles
Of salvation,
Fresh medicine,
The moment
Still stuck
In our throats,
The hallelujah throb
Of warmth
And hope,
The heady holler
Of rolling highs
And hillside
Soliloquies
Billowing brightly,
The yes of achievement
As the world breaths its no’s.
There is a music brewing slowly,
Distant songs in the mist
As dawn breaks episodically
Across the world
And drops into the void
Between our dreams.
Clocks turn in slow motion
And seconds sludge
As we pace,
Maybe our hearts are in unison,
Maybe we’re just destined to drift,
Maybe our moments sit stolen,
High on a mountain somewhere.
Hunting for new thoughts
In the half pickled forest
The sky flicks its tears,
Gales bluster and shake,
New ideas muddy troubles
And the roots wind on,
Into the open,
A single sun ray shining,
A slit in the dark,
A glorious moment,
A dizzy stomach growling,
An old thought polished,
As the sun elopes
Leaving you simple once more,
Drunk on familiar.
The dogs group
At the end of the road,
The sun weeps
It’s last light
And the sparrows
Rise off
Like dust
In a gust,
Too soon taken.
This night is alive
With regret,
As Autumn leaves
Shiver and fall.
Will you ever return?
Chords of discontentment,
Inconsequential mayhem
And the sweet scented sweat
Of memories reborn.
It was the last night,
The new goodbye,
We improvised badly on stage,
Spat questions and stumbled
Like strangers adored
Drowning sadness,
Old friends laughed
In the corner,
The dead hummed
Their approval
And the city sank
Knee deep
In storm water.
The last note rang loud,
Like a new full stop,
It grew with the wind
And rumbled the beams,
Stealing our breath
And approving our dreams
One by one.
Slacker Shack