Who's the boy that hides in corners?
Sat cross-legged and grinning at passing clouds,
his form evades detection, to the average eye.
Invisible and alone (at times).

He looks out of windows, observes raindrops drip-drop
as arcs from on high, like bitter tears, slow and deliberate.

He's dreaming of places he can root and grow, imagination.
Learning to embrace the poetry of letting go.

Letting go to love and root, a flash of endless scenic hills,
building patch-worked palaces in towering skies, crystalline vistas
in his mind, the mechanisms of his method, compulsion
of creation. 'His Imagination'.

'I am a dictate of randomness, structured into cohesion by heart
and mind beating in unison.' He thinks quietly to himself, in his corner.

'He lives in his own head for sure' they claim,
with narrowed eyes in corridors,
but few have a heart as quietly encompassing or as full,
as the boy that hides in corners.

Basquiat - radiant child
made daring visions wild with
frenetic energy, frantic rhythm
with paint on his Armani clothes
with paint on his Armani clothes
with paint on his Armani clothes

If only you’d worn that AARON helmet,
and donned a suit of armour the
day the needle pricked too far,
spiked the skin with ******.
Artist and millionaire.
A walking contradiction
which could not hold.

You began by scrawling truth on walls
your graffiti battle cry,
‘did fame consume you?’
‘just another tragic star?’
I dunno,
I just know
RIP SAMO

Infinite flake of destiny fall
upon outstretched broken hand,
cursed by ages dying
in some distant abstract land
in some abstract distant land,
in some land abstract distant
in some ritual, literal heaven.

An old eye watches all
flickers ////
blinks ----
in a crowded empty room
that fills my gut with a fear larger
than I dare Imagine - blank cells
crawl away, consume lining.

A gilded sense of depths of desire
riddles the head of my Medusa mind
with tales of half borne inquiry and
half formed sensual prodding
to daze me in the dead of night or morning
(can’t remember which or cannot tell)

Lift self up on the crucifix - feed the totality
tone of self sacrifice until that day the sheep
finally fold and swallow their own tails

till the end of time - to the end of the matter
borne from it, until universe is crushed under
the weight of it’s own promise
retuned again to zero point.

Rain down a halo upon this ancient marble
witness a black Rainbow
forget the ***** that chew at skin
and fly
into
the
sky
and
dreaming of black rainbows beat the tune
of aching hearts set to 11.