Creamy coloured bubbles
Of silky luminescence
Oft without any effervescence
Trickled running until pouring
Incandescent moonlit evening light
A walk along a distant road
That leads where no one has described
Some have been there and tell me so
Torn apart by wind streams
Flying past on currents unseen
No longer resembling any text book formations
Scudding by on a hastened path
Whatever your colour, religion, belief,
your ist, your ish or ism or chism.
I would like propose that one thing is true.
That every day each one of us rises.
Well yesterday was so very grey.
Last night I met my friend and he said
“yes it’s been a grey, blue day”.
Why is it that when it is grey
Where do You live?
Is it inside your head?
With noises and thoughts.
With buildings and walks.
A lush and lustful perturbation,
in an enormous conurbation,
near the noisy railway station,
where we met and ate crustacean,
Standing tall with obese faces
but such slender stemmed graces
often staked to fend off hastened
violent winds of spring.
Hope your not sleeping
It might go bang tonight.
A pretty frightful expression
of all the worlds dark sights.
The fair of life