Pinky Promise,
Cross our hearts,
Until we die,
We’ll hook our fingers
As loves’ will lingers,
Just as good as other things
Much the same as God and Rings,
Vows unkempt
Unkept soon parts,
So, Say you will
Stay, stay eternal,
In our finger hitches
And grabbled hearts,
Say we’ll find
Some sealing wax,
To glue for ever
Our Pinkys’ Pacts.
Holes with holds,
Carves and moulds,
To a lady’s shoulders,
Styled with grace,
For just encase,
The starlight suddenly smoulders.
A crumb,
Never knows another,
crumb,
As scrumptious is,
For it takes at least,
a good half slice,
And a thorough lick of the thumb.
But if it were t’other way,
Craving could over come a crumb,
And imagine it malicious,
If we’d all bake,
Cannibal, ballistic cake.
Murder!
Mayhem!
Squeals and shouts of ‘Yummmm!’
Till on the whole of the plate,
There’s nowt but a crumb.
Thanks goodness,
A crumb,
Never knows another.
Handle quickly my outer-derma,
Bring me back to terra-firma,
Force feed me those vaccinations,
Free my longing of hallucinations,
Dreaming dreams of dreams unending,
My mind’s unravelling from its bending,
Day and night and night with day,
Truth from friction flies away,
Feeling through my deeds undone,
Steals my soul for ghostly fun,
Damned to fight this welling urge,
Daily dreams a ceaseless scourge,
Pointed battles with foolish fiction,
My poetic nightmare of contradiction.
It was a night,
Of long stemmed glasses,
Clinking smiles,
And devilish eyes,
Trumpets and trombones,
A forest of velvet dancing,
Cheek on chest,
With a pinstripe suit,
Stapled in the smell of stale tobacco,
Carried in a slimline cigarette case.
As happy as happy gets,
sadness sits quiet yet,
waiting
waiting in the wings,
tighter
tighter till it springs,
SNAP-SWAP fickle stings,
History espied in rings,
slowly
slowly happy stacks,
everything
sadness lacks.
A sense you all need,
A sense you all feel,
A sense you will deliver,
You sense the shiver,
Change then heal,
Word then deed.
A machine
Meaningful,
Challenged
A changeling,
Handled
An angel,
A genie
Generated,
A self-image
Dim in age.
Reach up right now,
Closer, closer to the sun,
Lifted by the light,
Craned in height so unaware,
Your kite string's in heaven's hold.
Clouds, still yet appear,
Suckle the heat from the day,
And the potency,
Fades, plunged earthwardly,
Hindmost the string is reined.