(poetry page 3)
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Perspective
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The fence always looks better from the other side.....
You won't believe the kind of freaks out there. I have often wodered what it feels like to feel like someone else. Is is a harder, or softer experience? Are my hues their hues? Does the musk of dust taste and smell different to them? The crinkle of sensation - can it be as crisp?
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Trippin' With Ms Monroe and the Astros Part I
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It could have happened anywhere,
But it chose us and don't let this mislead,
We chose it and in that
We made the bed and laid the pact.
From the four streets of Rosebank,
To the dirty corridors where sweat stank.
It stalked us from the shadows and we were aware,
Unavoidable as lost and lonely - the forlorn stare.
Past midnight we ran,
Into the New Year
And there we collided...
Trippin' Ms Monroe,
With the stars and all the Presidents.
In my car we sped,
Past the past and onto the present.
Dodging strangers and stranger headlights,
Illuminating conspiracy theories and general paranoia.
Others people's rage accompanied us that night,
And little did we see the cage that they sought to crack
Was the self-same shackles that weighed down on our backs.
How could we foresee this lack of foresight?
Would we be judged, and if so by who?
For who could hear us with the windows rolled up,
And who could see us with our doors so tightly shut?
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Trippin' With Ms Monroe and the Astros Part II
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Maximum maxim.
This is what you left me :
Maximum Stimulation.
Maximum Simulation.
Breaking foundation.
Jacking frustration.
Teeth sinking into pillows,
Sweating intensity,
And stinking of leaking creativity.
Stop-motion video,
With streaming real-life audio.
My mind to yours and your life to mind.
Screaming bathrooms,
Featuring dust and debris,
Preserved in glazing crawling under my skin.
G-d help me ----give me more.
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