Quasi adhuc enim ut describeretur universus orbis….
Drift in and out of conscious in the haze of
Bohemia dreaming,
Too much Absinthe Plus plays tricks with the eyes.
Wake late morning, so heavy of heart
Destined to venture against the elements once more;
Are these the Pleasure Peak days?
I see – against the grubby white sky
Stands the giant gaunt iron spider.
Staring down with grandiose satisfaction
You iron beast of vast consequence.
With tiny buckets of glass.
Call the aliment a metal pain
Site the location – the tormented brain,
Manifests panic, forever running lose
So I indict my super-ego for self abuse.
And the Pier pokes through the angry surf.
A frantic wind trashes its spindly rusty legs
Battering flags, palm trees left worn,
Blind panic of nature cast against us.
The testosterone sea rages across the stones
As it cascades up the beleaguered beach;
Rain laden wind slaps indiscriminate and furious
This savage storm of chaos thrashes in reckless fury.
So as for fables of love & hate;
Heroines, heroes and emotional struggles
Your time of awakening has come
Mourn for them other, the deluded ones.
I’m still pretending, this is such an exclusive club
Lavishly unaware that it’s more a reality snub
The only way out is the only way you can’t
So I’m saving like crazy, for a head transplant.
So hide in the boudoir – situated behind excuses
And gush extensively about moving shapes;
How the starling swarm compose shadow patterns
Very much they have access to monarchy of the heavens.
Weather worn planks, tread bear and weak
Alarms, whistles wild and hovering gulls squeak,
The manic horns and clanging bells
In the chaotic orchestra of the pier.
I sculpture ideas, so very fragile
Then deceive oneself with candy and alcohol.
I ignore the rest, like a simple soul in free fall
Gazing out the windows of the Amsterdam bar.
Tell me, tell me now society itself
Is nonchalant to the pain of its own heart
People of relevance; They are no more!
As we all stagger back from the pinnacle.
I walked passed Tey – stretching gracefully skyward
With tender beauty and delicate poise;
Enjoy quite ambiance of space
Such the simple pleasure, is solitude.
But this is more problematic, the more you believe
Thus I turn On the Off button, before I leave.
With the morning stroll comes at an end
And I’ve bonded with the storm, like a furious friend
Return to the comfortable Pleasure Peak ways;
Of swaddled enchantment under bedclothes
In those so narcissistic, duvet days…………
