Umbrella green rain upset  harmless stripped
And because of thunder children snapped their fingers like jazz enthusiasts

Milk obsessed rats rant and render their own insanity
Passing three winged' angels in the street flowing serenity

Friends are best left in the mind and in the heart
But do not stray too far from them

For loneliness is a cold touch without love or hate
We are lucky to be feeling anything at all

The dead lie still
The weak do too
The strong move
The courageous seek
The other side of

The hill

Music moves underneath the fog of the sun
Near the flower garden the tourists roam free
A minds eye is a terrible thing to waste
Getting to know yourself through sleep is revealing
When is the next time for tea?

Your gibberish speaks things to me
That nothing in this world has ever done
What is the color of genius?
What is the feeling of epiphany?
Where do the dead flowers grow?

Packaged up
Sent off
Read up
The critics scoff

Growing old near the swamp the shanty town sways
Old culture rusts blood brown and neon orange
The bills are on the fridge and being cashed yesterday
Another day passes as the clock strikes 13

A friend brushes past another in a party and they smile
They do not speak for there is history there
Marking calenders for future experiences in all planning aside
There is nothing like chaos to introduce you to yourself

As I walk down the sidewalk, pass the cleaners, I see fiction
Moving under the trees, breathing the sea, I see narration
Talking to the barista, laughing lines, I see dialogue
Shakespeare penned the highest and the lowest of us all
And I think Bukowski was right there with him too

Watch a marble roll down the street
Observe each crack and the path it takes
We are very much the same way
Define your cracks, your bumps, your potholes
And see where they have taken you
See what became of you after the hard times.

This year
Apricots will writhe in the trees
Like a worm on a fishing hook.

The sea is foaming at the mouth,

And we are children
All over again.