Beat our brandy riddles,
Flake our sunshine wings,
Inject our floral laughter.
And for the most part take down all ever afters.
There was a gusty sight on the wind last night,
Dust spitting up across the firmament.
And the crack in the latch and the old thatched roof,
Blow about and rustle and clatter.
The canines cry with their shaggy coats wet,
As the moon begins to set in an ever after.
The widowed spider build a web spinning and spatter.
And with all the thing that I have seen,
With actions that were cruel and mean,
I reach for redemption.
Release from these crazy muses of mine.
Press your chest against mine,
So I can feel your heart beat, beating with our brandy riddles.
And clutch our hands together our palms in the middle.
Hold on, wait up, and stay up late with me,
Picking the scabs off our imaginary wings made of ultra violet light.
And watch the scabs turn to scars as our wings flake, what a sight!?
Delve deep into memories that make us smile.
Endless perfumed laughs,
Wrapped in scarfs,
As we cross from the wooden door to the field and run through the grass,
And what will we do for the time to pass?
Succumb to our glittering temptation,
Felt only once in a generation.
There is an awful blight on our strength and might,
Pouring dew on our wounds, self-inflicted.
And the blood it does seep,
With the scars to keep,
And troubled now addicted.
Keep going, keep moving.
It’s all in the grooving.
With the crack in the latch that batters the lock.
And the thatched roof all fallen asunder.
And the yelping of dogs sodden in the rain water.
Spinning a coffin for the flies caught now bitten and dead.
The spider has said all that is to be said.
Beat our brandy riddles,
Flake our sunshine wings,
Inject our floral laughter.

Come sit with me under a tree.
Would you ruminate on my pouring heart?
Come paint pictures with me under the canopy.
Would you find a place for love to start?

If I promise to learn from my mistakes,
Would you not judge me too harshly?
As I tell you my yarn by the glittering lakes,
And watch the rolling hills grow marshy.

Drink up with me as I spill all my sin,
And confide in you like I have no other.
I fear you would throw me away into the bin,
And will forget about me, loving another.

What words to choose for a sudden inebriation?
A cacophony of lyrical opiates,
Amorous with the linguistic calculation,
Submerged in the mind, uttered copious.
Drunk on an emotion in the twilight,
Singing to all the crepuscular creatures,
Language lulling yet never refrains its delight,
Understood like words of the preachers.
That’s how but why?
Because beauty builds on aesthetics,
Through sounds spoken on high,
And rhyming reveal those familiar tricks.
By virtue of allurement construction,
At the hand of resonance raised,
And verse venture until destruction,
Into the silence which shall be praised.
If it is to be said then should it be plainly?
Then what of poets creatively conjuring?
I know why we offer words humanely,
Too create images that are conquering.

Cascading times,
Caressing forever,  
A deluge of chimes,
Powerful endeavour.

Glitter gleaming bright,
Like little stars,
Pin ****** in the night,
Revealing mental scars.

Try to ask myself “is it honest?
Is it pleasure?”
Because that’s what I want as an artist.
To create something I’ll treasure.

Hearing music,
And songs.
Centimetres cubic,
And prongs.

Feeling deep bass lines,
Drinking the blues,
Echoing shines
Eloquent muse.

Blabbering brooks,
And useless tongues,
Deceiving looks,
And exploding lungs.

Seeing colours saturated,
With patterns that prickle,
Sensing hues evaporated,
With a silly tickle.