The candle waxes mysteriously lyrical and these homegrown, free-flowing, freeze-framed designs are quantifiable sidled serendipitously aside frightfully bountifiable – rip-roaring inadequacy

And the sequel need hold no immersed and trusted agonies, the elixir of mixed-up brilliance

About to settle to follow shallow alabaster seed
Feel all
Of me… When honey-soaked water pours at ten-thousand feet, eagle-eyed til remarkably reaware to its own reassured resurgence

Gargantuanly glistens, garglingly interrupting and achingly listens
And please release, soon as a parapleged and panic-driven, perfectly perfected person chooses their own map of absolute magnificent magnificence

The serenade-parade comes easy to me
Creeps to flee – she’s a brush-stricken non-entity fighting for entitlement
A miracle alignment cloaked, choked ‘n’ dagger-swaggered in shylock time

Ferociously fabricated from these festooned and fictitious lines created by contagiously inept friction

A silenced crime-writer’s instigated dream
Can they not simply feel
The horizon of dramatised dreams…

No more hiding away from what’s far-stretched and deciphers itself by the cutthroat divide called wanderlust life

Blood dilutes to salute its earthly whereabouts, finally…

Here we have this immaculately tantalised yet rottenly routined in-between
A people’s marvellously, bombastically awry marchingly mismatched procession in our wild-fired honour will have ya… guided gladly, darn downright dastardly by

Woodbine’s softly rolled finest
And a whiskey-twist to kiss these defibrillated lips

Sensuous, one-of-a-kindly-kind indeed we do appear to breathe easy one way or a smothered other

Rolling over in their own graves still purposefully braced for what’s posthumous and none too humorously brave
Hopscotched atop

Dead and buried long before they ever unearthed the truth of his bare-boned brevity
Cries while you smile yet won’t let go…