Can you see my soul through your glasshouse stoned eyes
society’s spider web false ceiling disguise
Thinking and feeling people with centipede legs
Spreading across continent's
trying to bury bombs in pages of books
Only to be misunderstood... their hearts!
Finding each other in the thin pale edge of reality
In vague, obscure, abstract lines of deft poetry
that our forefathers the beats drifted in from the west
Minds wanting to be authentically true... to their own unique selves
An unabated, unapologetic way of seeing
A wild abandonment of emotion
Bleeding... onto endless scrolled highways
A byway parallel to the more frequented universe
The galactic path... most commonly travelled
Civilisation has become cursed and we don't want to be part of this plastic prepacked mania
The feigned, fake... allocated boxed, slots of hysteria
Underneath filter upon filter... of sheer subterfuge
Beneath a deluge of digital dazzling distraction
A mere fraction of existence... only actually being lived
Lorded through hypocrisy’s vain, catfish sieve
Of benign nonchalance, we’ve begun to congeal
In a concealed tomb of a life-proof, love-proof lego world
Bohemia... scattered like stardust into the dirt
Poets, artists punching out the walled frame... that draws in;
suffocates... as oppression leads to depression
Regression of the collective cosmic mind
Trying to scramble through the labyrinth
Astral anarchists... travelling the night skies
Decadents of dissidence... slaves to our phones
Across many times zones... vibrating in sync
Crosscountries in a sprint... as we rave at the dying moon
and pray in emojis...that soon we will touch with our art
Our splayed dissected rambunctious hearts
Of paint clay and ink... words notes and blinks of minds’ eyes
Through multiples of Pi... concentric cycles
A colony of wayward bees... upon the static breeze
breathing deeply in through the archaic roots of life blood trees
As we realise water is life and within it, we all need to flow
Into the unknown... of a melody written upon constellations... a long time ago
In an indelible ink... invisible to the naked eye
Only to be felt, like lay lines, at the cores of our very beings
In Fibonacci’s sequenced... cadence of time
We are the social media Bards… the Platform Poets’ renaissance
Letting our spherical minds unfold... unwind into the analogue
recoil back into the soil... where our hands belong
In tune with nature’s slow, sweet song... of simply being
We don't wish to play this insane delusional... diabolical game
In a subdued, drug-fueled... diluted consciousness
We are the renegades of rage
and we... from word flowers
will make honeyed love!
