Syd

its staggeringly evocative
nothing could ever transcend the feeling

all I wanted to do as a kid
was to jump around
cats watching me
flicking with enigmatic insights and perceptions
tilting smooth carpets like grey heads
and twitching ears
its too overwhelming
like schizophrenia
leaping off
the dough stuffed forties sofa
with a byong
somehow seems to cultivate the sunlight
of when i was five

alas the sorrow striven side of the sun
was in the ascendant even then
darkness transcending national barriers like a pandemic
and in my now years i must hide
maybe in the fridge like decaying pork
or i must be overwhelmed by disfigured but transcendental sleep

What exactly is a dream
that's so impressive
repression of deeply felt values
surface like bloated green weed
enwrithed with spike toothed spined octopus
and bony lampreys
and in that repeating fever with its habitual sapping sweat
i am incarcerated
within a giant house within a somewhere spinning room
distant ceilings reaching down like adult arms
I never felt so close to a mirror as now
where happiness resides somewhere between the extremes of
illusion and reflection
like somebody else's needs that cant quite be shaped
into a rule set
and that change in-obedience to my change but cannot be held
like the reality of say a warm bird or a song in the throat
always there on the other side of the unconscious
sad as lyrics nobody ever hears before nightfall
crazed as a blackbird singing alone to a night lamp
somewhere
a way down the scruffy soot-bled road

they found him drinking from a puddle
or cleaning his hands on the grass in the park
and he might turn and say with piercing severity
"will they deceive us and keep us apart"
Witless is not necessarily the man who raves
at the sidney windows
and barret walls
witless is the man who doesn't have an inkling
of the dark void within
and its empty rooms
and its long long mirrors
and its doors to doors to doors