Aural sounds of delectation
funk-fuel in fervent distillation
undertones of jazz-swing in migration
electronic clicks and blips for relaxation
ambience is my one true occupation.

The resonance of sound in rotation
the initiation itself a radiation
morphological alternation in isolation
as the hubbub of voices echo respiration
breath in, breath out, in elevation.

No underlying obligation, only inspiration
and celebration of collaboration
revel in the pleasures of sensation
like the first discovery of amplification
and in its appreciation and stimulation
embrace variation in all its illumination.

Seek out new music from recommendation
the gravitation towards transformation
the re-education and regeneration
this musical manifestation of civilisation
saturated in complex contemplation
adoration in meditation
the simplest form of gratification
the creative urge for diversification
and technological intensity
of electronic experimentation.

~

Crimson clover round the bend
Parted of a sorrowed tool
Planting phrase on what is said
Who now stands the empty fool

In this garden, sheer delight
Wilted from the summer heat
Fenced in by a stone of white
Destined to be incomplete

Oh the beauty it hath lost
When your eyes did cast away
Counting change amidst the cost
Of this bloom now gone astray

On this bench of marble form
Headless statues bid adieu
I shall sit her in the storm
Clinging to the thought of you

For this rain shall find my weep
Fills the puddles of despair
Deep within their hollows keep
Nothing less that I’m aware

Loneliness, this garden seed
Found of hedges twist and turn
Taken from the soiled need
Am I ever soon to learn

Here behind an iron gate
Draped in vines so long now dead
Brittle touches prove too late
Of the love my heart has bled

As the sun does set the field
Now as darkness comes to play
Time I find my fate is sealed
Lonely gardens I will stay

If
Death
waits
For
Me
He can take a number...