Ramblings of A Wander-Lusting Neophyte (The Usual Blur of Words)

Are you ready? For a copyright infringement

That will go down a storm

In the right pair of ears.

Are you ready? For a right-inky-mess,

Neurotically depreciative of its own engineering.

A slippery sex-on-the-beach-monkey-nipple of a thought…

Discerning baggy-clothed and barefoot to be the happier option.

Do I dare,

And do I dare disturb the universe

With a cacophony of half-baked words,

Amounting to an ‘I love the bones of you,

That, I cannot escape.’ (?)

Some mirror ball, in an empty disco hall,

Reflects a similar sentiment –

That of Everything In Its Right Place,

Everything Has Changed.

Tonight the city sounds were violins,

Tonight the stars were multicoloured.

And whilst I reiterate, whilst I regurgitate,

Somewhere the last echoes of a snare drum

Fade out to a quick acoustic death.

Lets then. Yes lets – entertain a myriad of impressions

Fantastic and evanescent,

A sharp steel shard of the refreshingly ordinary –

Something like ‘world peace, less pollution

And butts that look good everywhere.’

…put that in your cocktail shaker.

Lets have a powwow

A Boom-Boom-Pow-Wow

To welcome Dawn’s eternal throes

And grasp earthy tufts of fuller life

To glide the highs and ride the lows

And help rebuff a word, a world, of strife.

The airwaves hum (Zumm Zumm),

The transatlantic, London to Brighton

“ Problems of an extravert”,

So peculiarly foreign.

The Exotic Other?

No. The Great Unknown.

Physicians are a good sort.

They want to do the right thing.

And yet all of us, behind closed doors,

Would kill to hear the Sirens sing.

…Do not all charms fly

At the mere touch of cold philosophy?

Cold and calculating, knowing all –

Nothing left to imagination’s sense of adventure.

Well, you’ve the wrong weather forecast.

That life, you know the one set out for you by others,

The one that has the universal-thumbs-up,

You-can-do-it-Facebook-official,

Chew-on-yer-pen, follow the leader

Yellow-brick-road

In red shoes kinda deal;

The one constructed in all futures but yours,

Set out in all plans but yours?

That’s the one you think hardest about.

Think harder, and then contemplate it in full -

Just for good measure.

Then, with your head in circles,

And out of kilter with Daddy’s Five-Year-Plan,

Look up the word ‘wanderlust’ in the dictionary.

And whatever your mind falls to

In the pending moments,

That is what you

Chase. And be happy(ier).

So say all earnest generations previously.

So say I.

The Montepulciano agrees.
Do I dare to eat a peach?

…Out to the windy beach,

Far from the twisted reach

Of crazy final moment’s

Sweet surrender, fragmentary,

Paradigmatic, post-modern,

Dada inspired sorrow. 

It’s OK. I was a neophyte once

Upon a time, dressing so fine…

With bones on the table…

Feathers in the garden…

Clothes on the line.