Tripping Through The Light Fantastic Poem by michael frost

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
climbing through to the other side, sensing dangers but quick to hide
dancing round in search of bliss, a sniff a smoke a stolen kiss
running through the pouring rain, free from sin and all its pain
creeping through the world at night, no sign of fear o what a sight
spinning doing the light fandango, breakdance salsa a cheeky tango
tossing coins and making bets, reeling jigs and ancient sets
shooting through in one direction, mistaken roads lead to perfection
stabbing spikes and sticking skins, fragmented shards of glassy chins
breaking free from silly rules, my toolbox full of rusting tools
kicking through the minds perception, a ballot boxing landslide election
rushing home to make some tea, with boundless love in ecstasy
laughing hard at plastic ravers, with polo mints and shiny razors
smoking smokes that may cause cancers, adrift in clubs with sexy dancers
two fingers up for victory, a slave no more to mastery
ducking now and sometimes diving, my deaths not here its late arriving