well i dont know how many were sent to this world

a hundred  a thousand maybe ten maybe less

sometimes i wonder where are those i arrived with

because creatures like us seem too few to begin

these words flying in and then out of my head

these numbers for me that cant mean anything

this avarice jungle  this gossiping swamplife

with its idiot sport and its pampered great sons

with its heros recast as handsome police man

with its heroines only as good and bad wives

with its insatiable hunger  its dying for diets

with its hideous thirst for the first hardest drink

with its stupidest rascals all chatting you up

with its most brutish bullies all holding you down

with its war and its whore and its bore and its gore

o my muse we need none of these things

i wonder at moments if their  hearts ever ache

for the cynosure of all eyes within

in interior chambers we whisper a secret

and it reverberates out to anterior space

o muse tell me why some prayers are unanswered

maybe they are but you just never see

people like you my friend always asking for miracles

when the immanent god has blessed you in spades…

its then that i realise i’m talking to no one

an eerie silence in an empty white skull

maybe one day my muse will desert me

maybe one day the axe will just fall

maybe i wander all severed asunder

jumping at thunder and deflecting the light

battling ogres who live in the zeitgeist

and the pyrrhic victory will be all mine

as he grasp at the offcuts of philistine fancy

a slave to new money and the old la-de-da

same swings n roundabouts but children are changed

same old rat race but its gotten past faster

when someone decided it was good to be bad

my distant reward points to a heavenly home

my ghost souvenirs from the turbulent nights

in arabicia on isle d’ capri

in solomons mines in mountain kings hall

in a discotheque called the black shangri-la

maybe i’m rambling  i should just let it all go

the kitten is purring but the clocks seem to stopped

and the sunshine is like some drug in itself

an afternoon to be gone with the mind

i imagine you reading those words with your eyes

and then even that thought is slipping away