The soft hairs of photons,
Quantum excitations,
Those elementary quivers
And phosphorescent shivers,
The universe in x-rays,
A psychedelic dance.
A wild galactic cluster
Of helical tendrills,
Suns pulsing neon,
Threads of light
Braiding chaos,
Interactions pirouetting,
Thousands of galaxies
Whirligigging attraction,
As the dust from dead stars
Drifts like seeds.
Reminiscing over
Countless big mistakes,
Falling from trees
And spoiling dinner dates,
I’ve been trying to meditate
But the voices in my head
Won’t cooperate;
I’ve been soaking up rainfall
For what seems like a lifetime,
And I’ve been waiting
For a sign,
Some kind of song
From God’s own chorus line.
If the forecasts stay gloomy
For the next decade
I’m writing prose.
Thunder calls,
The mourning rain,
Autumn sings
Its subtle pains,
Worries sink into the ground,
Dissipating drowning sounds,
A stream of thoughts running away,
The stale smells, a passageway,
Naive and oh so cavalier,
As shadows fall you disappear
Into your borrowed dreams,
Stitched together from smithereens,
Worn out t-shirts and happenings,
Your disregard for the finer things,
You’re happiest when you roam alone,
Gliding over the cobblestones,
Staring up at the great unknown
As all those memories that died
Rise high and hook their fingers in the sky
Like fire flies electrified.
The cluttered filth
Of ravaged gutters,
Rusting raw under
The loose stampede
Of this city’s
Stray wolf pack,
The bankers and
The business creeps,
The parasites
And lads for hire,
The rotten ivy on
Brutal grey towers,
The monolithic monuments
That no-one can be arsed
To tear down,
Sickly smiling,
The littered rivers
Steady swelling,
Amidst the overwhelming forfeit
Of sacrificed justice,
Those tubthumping echoes,
A hindsight sat ripe,
All regret and insights
Into why we became.
Slacker Shack