Dance with me

June 28, 2018 at 9:55 am (Poems) (, , , , )

When I do crazy things
You don’t have to know my reasons.
I could have lost my way,
Or, maybe I have found another,
Which you find hard to fathom.

When we were children
You wanted to be my friend
Because I saw things you wanted to see, but couldn’t.
So I would lead you, blind, but happy,
Through the realms of imagination.

You moved on, but I still live here:
It is no less appealing,
So dance with me, if you wish.

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High

June 30, 2013 at 11:31 am (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, sociology, Stories) (, , , , )

Is self-awareness the same as diagnosis?
Are dreams symptoms or manifestations?
Just lately there has been regular levitation
with increasing ability to rise above situations
or step lightly into another dimension
through a literal sphere of consciousness –
which is in fact a flexible paper tube.

Is intoxication dangerous?
Is imagination terminal?
Not only are these  experiences thrilling,
but also make dislocation enjoyable.
I am lying in a meadow of my own making,
sipping beer at the festival of living proof.
Perfectly balanced in my tipped universe
I have seldom felt happier upon waking
and been so willing to surrender to the night.

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Moon

May 15, 2013 at 10:33 pm (literature, philosophy, Poems, poetry, Stories) (, , , , , )

moon

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The Inside

January 22, 2013 at 5:47 pm (literature, Poems, poetry, Shropshire, Stories) (, , , , , , , , , )

I have done a lot of thinking

about the inside of things.

.

Today I built a dome

one foot square

and solid snow.

.

Inside were the animals

I would have made

if the snow didn’t

get stuck on my gloves

and crumble in my hands.

.

 a moose

and a mole

.

The moose had long, strong legs

and an intelligent, wet nose.

He put his head down

into the snow

and nuzzled

until he found a piece of green,

then chewed thoughtfully

whilst contemplating the upstairs window.

He seemed surprised

that humans

have such long legs

they need windows that high up.

.

The mole poked his snowy bonce

out of the tired ground

and peered with blind eyes

upon the bright sky.

I think he was glad

I would have made him.

.

I have thought a lot

about the inside of things.

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