Gupta Deep time

 I found the Kenyan quite strange actually

I had to lock myself up in the car and listen to muic

Do you mean Canyon?

Yes

Knight rider

 I'm guessing you have a kit car

Am I right

No it is a shit car

Out of balance

Mothers of the Church

 The scars of Romance

And the Monster of invention

Are you a baptist

are a methodist

Are you a papist

Or are you a Catholic

Puritan, juritan, jurist or purist

Curist or diarist, communist or protestant

Oh tell me of your original sin

Tell the work ethic

I can pigeon hole you in

Jubilee Jumble

 Queen, remember my name

God save the Grand Dame

All in one

No hole in the crown

Ball and gown

Plot in the ground

Frame a portrait

Write down her name

Same and Sorted

Keep a light the flame

Queen, I want you to live forever

I don't want you to die

Come and believe my Caribbean dream

My African savannah

See your face in the mirror

What has changed from before?

The features little

The eyes the same, a little sore

There is a sight Her Majesty

Majesty

Oh the bonnie wee lad

And the trains looking sad

All sitting await at the station

The mers and the sars and the

Rows of parked cars

All arrived that their destination

The tern and the tars

The kerb and the stars

Shining in the rain

Unreachable

Eclectic electric

 They are in the middle of a traffic jam of silence

Bowled over in a sound of consciousness

 

The parachute tester just dropped in to say hi

Can you fall from the sky

Without one?

No’

Can you?

Superman, ho, ho!

 

Electricity eclectic

In the dark of the rainbow

Electric rainbow of the soul

 

The Manta rays and electric eels glow

Why can’t we

Light a candle for my soul

And yours

 

The Centaurs are charging

Their gas bills

Eating grass sandwiches

And drinking beer

On the forgotten plateau

In the tearful meadow

Of tea

 

Come make me a shooting range

So I may target my fears

And tear out the pages of the paper back

Of apologies

No apologies, please

This darkness

Is good for my soul

I can hear

Nothing

But the stars

And the wheat ears

Whispering in the field’s breeze

Endurance

 Chocolate ship, chocolate chip

Kurtos Kalacs

In a jam in the icing

Of the antarctic roll

The chimmey stacks

fire cake, ice cake

We burnt our fingers on the ice

Holding together frozen 

ice table, ice plate

Sit down to a frozen meal

Well it was ready when I cooked it says mother

You arrived late

Where are all the women in the antarctic

Sabortooth tigers, where they there?

What did the antarctic look like when you were born?

Disturb the Penguins

But it was much a do about nothing

only another Penguin with an instagram account

Trying to advertize their fishing business

Being a king and staying a king penguin

Being a king and becoming a queen penguin

Don't look up

 I'm not saying it was good

I'm not saying it was bad

but it had that tone you know

That authority of dad

Should you beckon for forgiveness

Or crack as a mountain

Peak under the weight of foreknowledge

Like Cassandra who couldn't speak

Should you fall in love with an icicle

Or a bicycle or a polar bear

Should you mean to quench the thirst that comes

When you do not care

Forgone conclusions aside

I decided I was spare

Like a room ready to rent

Like a condom as yet unspent

Or like a tiger in the night

Whose switch had been turned off

I was light as a kite in the air

Should you harm the great rhinocerus 

Who was only trying to warn us 

Or buzz like a lightning rod

Ready to speak to God

Should he say come hither wither 

Will you go Up high or down low

You still feel the vertigo

The meld of cataclysmic events

Broke the mould

Shocking how one event

Can turn a whole life just so

In beads of sweat I write this

The dog is running out

The end of the world is coming

But I cannot scream or shout

Something in me died

The moment

They pulled the plug

Like water down the drain,

I hear the refrain

No don't look up

I stood with racked brain, and threw the torch

Of flame

Shook the tree of good

But could not discover

My name

I pounded on the door of heaven

Or was it a seven eleven

Either way I needed what was within

The party was almost over

The lighter fluid switched

Over to petroleum

By the gas attendant witch

Was she a witch? I ask myself

No of course she was a stylist

Just someone who pretended to be

Someone I'd mindless

But I wound the windy windlass of the lock

And low and behold

A thunderbolt shock

Hit me between the ears

In the air of nebulous tears

That always diminish like a fraction

(of years)