This place;
It's full of the weird and the wonderful
This place;
It's creatures are more amazing than I've ever seen
This place;
It's got the style that got its unique tag
This place;
It's full of the weird, the wonderful and *us.

I am bound by
two brick strings
and a
receipt
of red ink.

There is nothing
about the future that presents this.
Only that which has occurred
to a stomached stirred
preventing any glimpse of bliss.

I'm only calling
the names in the distance.

There's a shift of relevance
and it's delicate.

Those who can't record
the revolution
are too busy
lighting the rooftops
ablaze.

My words are the keys off beat
In choir, the one off key
The bird who flies in the opposite direction

The ecentric. They call us the liberals. The freedom fighters. They say were are the hippies, the weirdos.
What makes me different........................
My hat is so tall you can't see the theatre performance
My eyes are so curious I see a light on every ceiling
My hands are so wound they jump like bunnies on every desk
My feet as so tired they twist in the soil

I paint a picture that shows shadow and dark
I feel I am both
I Feel like the wind of the opposite direction

I don't know.
It feels so weird.
Where I am, is so familiar
yet it surprise me every time

Love is just so chaotic.
It's so strong, confusing and stubborn.

We are all cracked up
Like how trees shatter
When struck by lightning
Like how brds fly away
When they see someone they never knew

We are all cracked up
And when you try to understand why,
You just couldn't
Because as human as we are
We are all cracked up

Made my morning
much much easier

Doing everything that
I was told to never do.

Wake up with wine
A glass at a time
And at least three
Puffs of Cuckoo Chi.

Before that I **** myself.
Or, with luck, a PYT,
Who promises me
She’s on the pill.  

And if not, Oh
Well, I’m sure “Zanir”
wasn’t her government name.


It took close to twenty-three years
To shake off the agony of daytime.
There was no place for me in the
Systematic sunlight. Or, at least,
Not one that I could see.  But now

I’ve got a bottle, ½ full of optimistic
Alcoholism. I manage the condition
With a bit of cinnamon, spiced into
Steel cut oats and W.A. Elderberries.


Admitting what you don’t understand
While trusting that you know yourself
Is the last, if not only, human freedom.

Social expectation &
Psychic ambiguation.

Don’t take refuge in the familiar
Without first hugging your weird.

Comfort traps aren’t new,
Just the latest edition in:
That’s How They Get You.

one, we bow our heads in a synchronised fashion
two, we circle each other, two swans in a lake
three, a hint of blush is seen on my cheek as you approach
four, arms stretched out
five, hesitation
six,  my arm meets yours
off we go in a whirlwind of music and footsteps
circle one, circle two, step step, circle, step
sweeping the floors with the ball gowns and frocks
breathing steady and you a little heavy
we feel the eyes of greedy onlookers watching
so much sound and yet barely noticeable
I wish for this to never end I wish for this to be forever what it was and what it is and what ill be I want stability I don't want falseness I want to recognise myself in the mirror when I wake up I want to feel the touch of love not the scorching agony of lust and most of all I want to be happy, just simply happy no strings attached. Stupid happy.
one, we bow our heads
two, we look away
three, I wonder if you understood the longing in my eyes.
four, a new hand approaches.