On the street at night its magic land.

On the street at night its magic land

Lamps alive!
Air sharp,
My,
How rich I am, like prince weightless without crown.
In and out shallow breaths cut frosty curls,
And dance above a star struck road,

As Shadows move like twisted marinates,
Twirling strings will snake one arm drink in hand,
To parting lips,
which begin to sip invigoratingly from the cool night glass of the world,

Cold?

It’s like being reborn or waking within a dream,
Visions curtains open onto a stage lit by lucidity.

Here tiny shards of ice will trickle down your throat,
Tickling spine and warming soul like some spicy rum oh Portugal,

While sitting Bellies all a twitch
Feel glorious,

It’s like someone has come and turned a stitch upon the lining of your stomach wall,
Try to imagine inside,
That warts and all tiny little sailors argue over ill gotten coins, brought back from spoiled wars,
pistols crack in each sailors hand means no more butterflies swirling round,
For they’ve been grounded by powder shot,
have no fear they will flutter once more just not yet,
For your stomach has become a hearth right now,
and If you dared to believe it upon the shores,
Jamaica’s fire burns.

Once was a professor full of lead,
Who shock of white hair upon his head,
Used to fly air balloons,
Majestically he swept joyous freedom from just being
High, up above floating clouds which matched his hair,
Now his pull,
Is to hammer patchwork quilts on human souls,
To make them fly just like his balloons,
His hammer rises, His hammer falls,
Its strikes orchestrate sparks which quickly fizzle
Bursting into flickering electro life.

Hear what hums underground?

Secret sounds.
Is always a rushing beneath your feet, such energy.
Makes I for one feel free, of gravity’s draw,
ever hear your soul soaring call,

“Pretend to be a dragon, smoke streaming from your lips?”
Look now, how you slip so gently into the middle of the road,
“Not something you’ve done lately, but yes often as a kid.”
Whilst all is basked in orange glow.
Streetlamps play leapfrog with trees,
Whose game lying on pavements side leaves I with my road,
Its white lines are yellow bricks, light house shine to returning ship
Follow foxes but you must be quick,
For they appear fast only to break away like rolling waves,

This quiet earth feather light
So well known throughout the Milky Way
As a friendly port safe within the universal storm.

“So why is the park empty?”
Because everyone’s asleep,
Who can blame them, all tucked up warm, safe in bed,
they are happy nesting in their dreams.
But sometimes I get to thinking and maybe you’re the same?
Of how it would be one night if instead of sleeping.
we all decided to stay awake.

Just like that
And together leave our beds and homes behind
Along with those so many questions too
Such as why am I here?
And what do you do?

For here’s a secret,
The morning dew won’t care,
And it doesn’t matter what you wear
When trees are electric and branches hang
On the street at night its magic land.

So follow me off we go,
Have now fear of the moonlit road
It’s time to journey into the dark, yes! Lets
Have an adventure in the local park

Here you can see the nature kissed benches of moulding grey, sitting like books with only one page.

Find life stories written on their brassy plaques.
Just look
Maybe share a moment a little thing but so precious a time.
Please stop a while with the crooked old men in their flat tweed caps,
Sit next to them, and they will chat,
Might even tell of wife’s fresh passed away,
whose names now adorn benches of moulding grey.

So gentle how talk can change from orchids too cups of tea,
This journey begun with the sun shining at a half past twelve,
Now the suns asleep and Big Ben tolls three.
That’s right here we are three chimes since the witching hour.
Stars so bright like to present us with magic eyes.

Whilst up above divine force, the moon,
Lets her Magnetic Power settle upon the mood,
and Silent
Secret
Like Blanket Snow
Her moon flakes fall.

Drop
Like tears from the sky,
Wild,
Splosh!
They Wash away all fear.
Until gone at once from every face,
The look that says,
“I’m afraid”.

Prick up – your lords & peers!
“Why so scared of your own voice”
“Why are you so scared of your own voice?”
“Why so scared of your own voice”

Moon flakes settled upon shoulders begin to whisper into ears.