And so, within the mind of man,
The cauldron spits.
Then births the sprite
Capable of freedom
I see a man with twisted limbs
Who has wheels to take him home
A kindly man, a friendly man,
Who need never ride alone.
Do poets really have twisted minds
For they don’t view the world as others do?
It is painted with a much richer pallet
Using words of a varied hue.
If a woman is a lady
Then things will always be the same
For time won’t change her elegance
Her poise and beauty will remain.
The asylum looks so stark and bare,
But still a shade is drifting there.
She is haunted by secrets from the past,
Though she has gained her freedom at last.
Come, walk with me
Through the vales of my mind,
Climb the high mountains
Of inspiration we will find.
Forsooth sweet maid, tempt me not, my plea,
with winsome smile and sparkling een,
that draws me to thy fulsome breast.
Twixt Heaven and Hell to place one kiss,
By the north harbour wall,
The lovers met and embraced.
For a few precious hours they were free,
So they dined on fresh prawns
Is it a god who speaks my name
Through the thunder in the sky?
Are there gods who are waging war
In a great battle up on high?
The Sausage Machines
Neat little children march into schools,