lightening down

man it aint too easy being a poet down n outta luck

thunderbolted to fuck knows where and how long

still all those words going on pouring into your head

you say hey i aint getting paid for this so shut up

but the voices are babblin’ on n on

voices of anxiety voices of wild stupid ideas

my ticket has expired man in this rat race of dogs

i’ll be glad to get outta here at 4.51 when the public serpents knock off

maybe i’ll jog round lake armageddon as the white and pink lightning forks the horizon

the sea is all underlit or something man that looks weird

like the light shining down there is another moon

the storm is cozy when youre inside

we are all working hard here on our own time too

in our own time in our own haunts

well its just me actually

i sit in the light of a screen

and my eyes ache so fucking bad

but i go one on

knocking out my free poetry for some cats out there to read

i hope they enjoy it and all the rest

its midnight blue and green

the thunder is still rolling like a piece of thin metal on speed

you can feel it physically somewhere out there

i am surrounded by statues of the buddha

who only hears the silence

and who only sees through the illusory curtain

this world of appearances and shadows