dropping beats, spitting rhymes in this underpass,
you rapped to the rhythm of my darkling heart
laid down that **** like a line of the white
pulse is banging but my head is light
and now it’s like this mix is the styx part II
there’s a river and I’m crossing **** over to you
in this underground we sound like souls apart
i reach out you feel and the blood stream starts
i think i see family in the ghosts who scream
brothers and sisters in the shades i deem
to be like my own when this cipher’s writ down
in this tunnel in this channel in this under the ground
in the dark of this underpass its heavy black
god’s demon throbbed and i hollered back

He thinks her little feet should pass
Where dandelions star thickly grass;
Her hands should lift in sunlit air
Sea-wind should tangle up her hair.
Green leaves, he says, have never heard
A sweeter ragtime mockingbird,
Nor has the moon-man ever seen,
Or man in the spotlight, leering green,
Such a beguiling, smiling queen.

Her eyes, he says, are stars at dusk,
Her mouth as sweet as red-rose musk;
And when she dances his young heart swells
With flutes and viols and silver bells;
His brain is dizzy, his senses swim,
When she slants her ragtime eyes at him. . .

Moonlight shadows, he bids her see,
Move no more silently than she.
It was this way, he says, she came,
Into his cold heart, bearing flame.
And now that his heart is all on fire
Will she refuse his heart's desire?-
And O! has the Moon Man ever seen
(Or the spotlight devil, leering green)
A sweeter shadow upon a screen?

A flash of light,
Then a brilliant burst of colour,
And a deep amber of the most passionate hue,
Fell into waves,
And framed the brightest eyes of ocean blue.

A luminous face of olive-white,
Stared into my soul,
And filled my heart with delight.
Behind peach lips,
A smile reflected a smile,
As she outstretched her long arms,
In the most graceful style.

Her fragile hand turned a rotation,
Her fingers changing form,
Her other arm held above her head,
The breeze before the storm.

The girl from the other side of the camera was her.

Her final request:
One last picture.

She beckoned me near
And brushed my hair behind my ear.
Then, as if it were a sign,
She parted her lips,
And pressed them to mine.

As the compact square drifts into my mouth,
Cocoa fireworks ascend, shooting up at the speed of light,
Leaving the milky texture tinging in my mouth.
As heat slowly melts it; as it grows not up but down,
I can feel it slide smoothly down the tunnel that is my throat,
Still descending into a dark crevice,
Never to be seen again.
Fairtrade is one of many kinds,
Like Asian, African, American of our race.
A saviour object, one that can give so much,
To change the lives of millions,
To give them one thing that most people need.
Hope.

Our evil plans are unfurled
As we plan to take over the world
Eve and I were so excited that we twirled
We are awesome possums
And we are Valiant Sun Valliants
We own
And Pown