sensations under a primary sun spread through generations
wax drips like sweat on to sweat dripping like rain that clings to our canvas shield
the daybreak smiles as it dries the dewed tarps
At fuzzy minds
That refuse to yield
immersed in enchantment
And Scuzzy with field
ears catching natter spewed as clatter builds
the happy daze that sweeps reality away,
anxieties at bay
primary sun rises above another day
to be blurred into every colour created and yet to exist
sigh to witness the mornings mist
hung to frame this picture of bliss
I try to resist
I grasp to the sounds and movements of the night
Knowing sleep will separate me
Till they are pickled pages of a story I'll half tell
amongst the days of this week that seep together
We seek the fantasy of this forever
Where we are home in the lyrics that swirl through the air
And our feet know the patterns of the beat
Our emotions howl as my feelings digest
a jumble of potions and poisons
and unfinished sentences
I need to rest
but now it is the present
reality is tearing at the seams
dance myself to bed
as the day begins

Little bug whispers
sweet dreams in my ears
As we crawl towards oblivion
moonshine and make believe
Nonsense echoes around my skull  pyjama parties
Suddenly we're in our twenties
Substances and sandwiches
We slumber in our
Gigantic wigwams
Battered old vans
More human that I was before or am I even human anymore?

I sit alone, in a circle
on the soft green carpet of the world
i feel safe
my eyes so dry i shield them
sun fast fading in the sky
my nose crusted rusted shut from the inside
i cry
the wet salt fills my barren pupils
sadness an oasis for my sight to swim through
my breath raspy and raw
throat sharded with sniffs full of backdrip
lungs swollen from heavy tokes on spliff
its tugging me back to reality
i feel defeated and completed
still i want more
and endless sesh of happiness
a party of all of those i adore
my head hits the floor
tomorrow my ceiling will not be the sky
i will not have drugs to help me fly
the hardest part is always goodbye

i hope your shade of smallworld blues is a nice shade
the clouds always seems grey
when summer slips away
the world beneath mirrors it
confidence depleted
hearts defeated
it all feels synthetic
no one sympathetic
my serotonin trapped in
flashbacks of myself, energetic
surrounded by the swish of everyone dazzled up swimming through the same rhythm
primary sun holds us all as children
bodies of movement glittered with sweat
feathered with freedom
shedding regrets
we form circles shapes
and sparkled squiggles
we feel eternal
suppressed only by giggles
we colour skies
we paint our skin
we dance on highs
with solidified grins
im only 9 months away
i cannot give in

Every moment we cherished
Sweet seconds divine where
I am home in her lyrics that melt in the air
My feet bare and bruised with a good time, and the memories I don't want to fade
August runs out so I daydream of May
Throughout the winter we may grow apart
but at the first peep of spring
We know what starts
Studded with those darker sins
We reach out as the festival begins
We forget our troubles and our pain
To cuddle beneath our primary sun again

I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads
what you see from a distance
wave hands
say hello to you.
I've been confused
ever since stand alone in the crowd,
no one sees me
except for a pair of eyes
that is lodged in people's heads
which I never knew before;
and the clouds turn blue but don't hurt flowing right over the head
then the birds rise expel the wind
who had tossed my long hair.
I just stare at them,
hope they don't look at me.
However, the world suddenly stopped. And my world seems to have a limit
to transcend isolation.
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads,
which has been left behind by old memories,
and when the new comrades have become adept at reading signs,
and therefore we have bonded
like a relationship
that we are not really aware of.
I'm a foreigner
at the crossroads,
greet you as a stranger too,
but now everyone is busy making their own festival,
and don't ask,
I make a festival for whom,
except for the day
when I'm not known anymore.

Salad and veggies squeezed
in a bow, no space to dance.

Spring blossom whispers
Is it time to skateboard?

Tick tock, French onion soup say cheese
Who is that lady who lives
in her homeless shoes ?

Festival time - A favorite time of year
When Mothers and Fathers sing the their children as gifts
Dance in the love of Old Grandpa Wally
Even when he can't find his socks, or sits on the dog
Aunt Dorcas bought the tickets to the Fantasy Festival
So all the good little Girls and Boyos can play!

Open your arms
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your family
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your Daddy
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your Mommy
To the Fountain of Clowns

Will you go with me to ride the Spring Mares?
Or see the sights at the Showy-Magic Tent?
Maybe learn  what the Pizzazz Wizard sees for our Tomorrows?
Maybe a kiss at the Promisatorium
All of your Sister's dreams can die and be born again
If your tired, rest your head on Brother's lap and take a drink

Open your eyes
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your heart
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your insides
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your mouth
To the Fountain of Clowns

Laughing and Crying are the flavors of love
The scars on your heart will open its flowers
Look deep in the eyes of the children who surround you
Ask them for love with your arms and your tears
The sun in the sky was meant for your Heart
Maybe the Queen of Summer will never end

Open your past
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your future
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your body
To the Fountain of Clowns
Open your heart
To the Fountain of Clowns

Steinbeck’s restless ghost whispers to me
as I tiptoe along a stone seawall.
He steers me away from the bay
back to the old sandstone churches
built by native hands,

back to music festivals and artisan fairs
full of mild, white cheeses
and would-be novelists arguing
about Henry Miller’s tropics.

But I’ve grown tired of his whispering
and no longer wish to dream of these things.
I would rather descend into a watery haven.
I will wave goodbye to John
and I will run down sandy paths
that lead to the sea.

I wade into the depths and sink
into a canyon where kelp shivers
in underwater breezes,
and the only stars I see will be
suction-cupped to the rocks below.