For Hallum and Ethan

There's a truth boys,
it jaunts about between the gaps in thought,
it settles in the breath of change,
go out and find it.

They'll paint you into backgrounds,
but always,
be all truth, all glory,
believe its there.

There's a truth, you'll see,
we're afraid to go for it,
but my boys fly,
just be giddy in the wheel.

I'm jumping so very, very loud,
my time to some is always wasted,
but truth is there,
I'm searching,
it's mine, it's yours,
its truth and its there.

She'll move as if drawn from your own vein,
her unbound gallery demanding vision,
so be sure to know your sight,
it takes time, but that's just fine.

There is truth my boys, really there is,
we're all screwed a million times,
just learn,behave,
and damn dance the rhythm.

My truth is awkward, its bitten, misrepresented,
it's been benign for far too long,
it binds my hands, denies me movement,
but its still truth, my truth,
and its glorious.

Soon it'll speak for real,
and you'll know that you too can live for truth,
because truth is all we have,
it makes us men, shines our eyes for decades to follow.

There's a truth boys,
please believe there is,
it will stand and smile and be,
and with it love will form,
such glorious form,
love to untie your hands,
to lay the path,
be open and accept it.

There's a truth my boys,
there's a choice, it glides along,
happy to be forgone,
its the path to gloried entanglement,
go my boys and seek your truth.

In other news

The devil was glorious when in focus, this chimney on society was the south paw to normality.
A man in uniform or a women in heels, they would all be drawn to this principality of the strange.
And now that an empty heart was the new capital city for the young, the hubbub of loneliness called to them all.
They would relinquish all ideas of individuality and at his word they would leap ‘Hang the king!’ They would cry. For tomorrow the bicycle tracks of our failed history will be faded and the super state family will rule like magnets over plastic ‘Hang the flag!’ Bait the hate filled masses, for rocket powered headlines and tales of lonely foreign legions will be the insurance of our new social order 23, 22, 21, 20... becomes the countdown and the price of razor blades begins to rise.
And now every citizen dreams of the chance to have his own mirror so he can reflect to the world that which he thinks they want to see as And now every blood line is soured against the onset of time.

Open thought 17

Opportunity of living on
Slow burring yet in style
But life is not living alone
Life is causing effect

Lets be crass
And gain great collections
Be at the heart of detonations
And the forefront of revelations

Stoke wildly the breath of ambition
And double the visions of our hope filled kind

Opportunity of being glory
Of knowing happiness is built internal

But hunger is not reward
Show of strength no gauge of will

Lets be brave
And step into the wonder
Dance gaily as the impromptu
Be enough to catch the fire

Opportunity of living on
Undoubtedly spins in reach
Bow to the will of the lady
She spins us in the constant

Shooting up high in the sky
The beauty of Fortuna
Madam play me
I'm starving for the game

Madam spin me
I'm to be played

Sussex coast

Down on the Sussex coast life bails away,
twined with lines of comfort,
the certain progression.
Standing in a field I got no need to make mad,
yet mad I spring.
I’m always crying out for the bold, great paths of golden hay, momentary footprints,
they sing out,
burned into the hillside,
carrying last wisps of the confluent.

We’re trapped! They sing.
The sad lament of those killed by choice.
Never a certain route delved. Mumble along poor citizen,
poor inhabitant of Sussex.

Algiers 1

Down in Algiers the sun makes you mad, it boils the uneven spirit of boyhood, it taunts the child not fully lost from the man.

Yet the natives play it all, spinning the wheel, they set sail for prosperity.

Oh don't leave the belly of wonder, don't neglect the awe of home.

So now the streets of the south sway with wonderment, pour with rage and bustle with resentment.

Damn how the boys in their tracksuits have lost the will,
they fight the new mother, like the uncaring bitch she is,
now they say they're killing one another, well what do you expect.

Viva freedom,
Viva a young man's chance in the world.

Nothing is owned, nothing is yours stupid men!!

Life should be lived in the sun, the heat of ones knowing.
It should always be free of choice, free of tumult.

I wont be afraid to live long into the Algerian sun, breathing the vapour of the words that have past by,
slinking in the shadows of those towering spirits.

Open thought 11

Flown on senders thought
abundant whimsy, call it loss!
Hurry forth the dragon of will
oh so cogent, bring the fire,
the mystic,
shatter the pallid glass of modernity
create a legend to swallow,
to drench, to gauge.

Away, swift, lend, be strong
dip on trees and cathedral through towns go gather your speed my hopeful infinity.

Another day/on return

I saw the Indian boy run
down the underpass
he slipped from day to night,
that boy showed me we're all running, all slipping through an underpass moving from light to dark.

The slope chased him away,  giggling at his unease,   
forcing him to submit,
submission is a daily roast
its our common bond
that strange bullied boy and I.

Go strange in your ways
you carrier of the ebullient,
you giddier of my will,
go tumbling into maturity,
into obscurity.

I wonder if he's still running, abandoning structure
and just bellowing out his unease.

My future lays tightly coiled
it's in the dust of that boy,
that Indian so far from the warm,
so unsafe, so unknown,
so tormented by the brisk hand,
so bullied by the company.

I wish I could show like him
just run forever in a frieze of my nature.

Another trip back

Living in my time is a coloured theme. Mescaline in a field seems such a joy like the young boys eating mushrooms by the school swimming pool, while i'd sit oblivious at home.

There they flound, asymmetric lines, pubesent aisles of quickened pulse. There goes the loosened thought, the ripening thunder, boys your galloping on.

Hello burrowed self You be the boy of sheltered crawl, alone to wonder, saved for the day, to one day dream of afternoons in different perceptions.

Now we're just shadows of the men we wanted to be. Our young bodies drifting on ether, catching winds of summer bombs, forgetting the triumph we made of it all.