Blackie Brown Poems

If life is that which happens whilst we're making other plans,
Seek meaning in the beauty as it passes through our hands.
Be humbled by the wonder all around and whats to come,
An aura in your being luminescent as the sun.
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In streams it slips, cascading dawn.
A twist and turn a mumbled yawn.
Pillow clutched tight underhead,
I smile and muse in heavenly bed.
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Have you not been to Northampton?
This is how we all speak.
Not putting up with your cheek,
Your ideologies weak,
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Can see your lips moving but, all I can think of is whether your eyes are
blue or brown, they're moving around, up and down.
I hold my glare as I hold you dear, seems like there's no others here, I sip my beer.
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I knew it to be peaceful for there were no others there,
winter, water, wilderness, wind ripples in the air.
Moisture laying heavy, sentiment hovering light,
beauty with the vastness, familiarity with night.
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Vacant expressions, shallow superficial talk, obsessions with the pettiness of work. Is there nothing behind that glare wishing to express, no part desiring something greater? How is it possible to live in eternal lockdown, lobotomised by the folly of perception?

Know this man, a company man, business and pleasure. He talks of work though no one cares, fails to perceive the boredom in their stares.
I wonder, does he care? Is conversation to him merely a functional neccessity, an appendage of his ignorance? Can he be converted to sense or is he forever lost, cast adrift, bereft?
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Take a shower, tidy the flat, organise odd jobs and that. Pop out to the shops, visit a friend, step into the sunshine, lend yourself to the day.

Unshowered however, I remain divorced from the day, from the jobs, from people, from it all. I'm still living inside my head, perched upon my bed with words and thoughts floating around, I put the guitar down and roll another joint.
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Toss your hair out the window, trust me, i'm on my way,
you need more than a room in that tower,
I couldn't bare it, will come whisk you off to play.
Borrowed a white horse for the journey, ideal for jumping fences,
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and
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Basic instinct, highest soul,
Does the former belie the latter goal?
Can revelation lead us from desire,
Pursuing that of being higher?
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