can't get 'here comes the sun' out of my head.

From the roots to the surrounding fields I just can't join the dots.
Once a hippie bush child, then an isolated dreamer, a party hopper and city pretty, so much history yet zero presence.
I can feel the scales dipping and rising slowly and the constant imbalance is making me sick. I don't want to be down but it dips there further every time I strike a break and then watch it fade to normalcy. I have plans, big plans, I can draw them but want to colour the lines between. I want to join the dots.
A young child knows this number leads to this number and ah a picture forms but how does 21 lead to 22?

Solso

“In the case of unfulfilled expectations, the viewer is required to resolve

his or her tension, or simply to abandon the (thing) and consider another.”

materialicious

mmm I'm hungry

bust a move

I want to be victim on the dance floor.
I want couples to pull each other closer as I shimmy to their shuffle.
I want the dj to question his superiority for spinning anything that would make someone like me twirl and gyrate like a pervert.
I want people to smirk to their friends as I do the "four pointer" ring shot and the club kid palpitations.
I want my friends to pretend to laugh and vomit a little in their mouths as I do grease-lightning arm points and my interpretation of interpretive dance.
Remember that jazz box you used to make or the large circling of the hips you learned when you were five, I want bouncers to consider throwing me out as I relive their glory.
Who's got it- not me.

vacancy by absence

the hunger has left but a different longing remains.
a hole that encompasses you and will not spit you out, just allow trails of truth and beauty to seep out.
you dress in a suit of conformity but shake in it's stodgy livery when your senses ignite as the heart pumps and burns.
your taste buds sour over but you can smell it in books old and new, hear it in sweet and punchy melodies and see it posing in the underground.
it is the forgotten art of art.

those smiles which twist and turn

There is a place that I didn’t think still existed, but I found it again today.
This is the place; it is where the sun separates the greens from the blues as they swirl under the golden sequin shell.
This is where the bridge smiles over the busy neighbours and is pushed into an arc by the swarms of people trying to get their glimpse of the storyboard harbour.
Some neighbours jostle for the world to see in their battered and classical homes whilst others are never home to see their mansions stretching fat bodies against a green winding cliff.
There are people with my humour and my pent-up passions who have also become the organs of the mainframe. People who want to hop scotch and hurdle around more then they want to dictate the world around them.
People that will make you laugh like you forgot how to, with an embarrassing enthusiasm, which echoes back the escaping closing note of abandon.
If only to find this place you didn’t have to leave everything behind.

the end.