michael frost Poems

tripping through the light fantastic, where all the trees are made of plastic
rolling down from spansill hill, with pint in hand i never spill
crawling through the concrete ghettos, dodging chicks in sharp stilettos
cutting through all mindless games, burning up consumed by flames
...

a silver dawn approaching silently with a morning mist shrouding the days intentions,
a babbling brook whispering untold truths of far away places.
and i naked before the coming dawn stripped down to my bare essence.
the memory of a lovers sweet touch warms the core of my being and i am oblivious to the days early chill.
...

am i wrong or are you right, cant find the gloves to have that fight.
sun goes in clouds come out, rain of wisdom or shower of doubt.
dismount the horse and end the ride, no place to run no time to hide.
the child within is always bold, the righteous path is worn and old.
...

i'd like to take you far away some special place thats out of reach
but ive only got a tenner and enough petrol to drive you to the beach
so jump in beside me on this beautiful sunny day
im just checking my pockets for change for the motorway
...

a silent witness to a terrible crime
but i didn't see it i didn't have time
it was not really me in that terrible place
i did not see the blood spattered all over her face
...