Friday nights's drinking into oblivion

Crippled the possibility of my weekend

Stale & disjointed

Winter & hopelessness

Tugged at my seams

I viewed all but nothing

Outside my window

Industrial lonesome 11pm car parks

From Berlin to Beijing

The forgotten sadness

The still empty inbetweens

Of a land mass rolling in catastrophic vigour

From east to west

& back again.

Berlin, Germany

Talk of the Grateful Dead, wine & anagrams

A man named Charles from Toronto

Gives me a hard time under the shade of a banyan tree

Because we share a name

& we're both very sick....

He told me he fell in love & kissed his girl in 91'

By the Berlin wall in the rain....

This greasy old goat is full of shit.

Gokarna, India

He travelled from east to west

North & south

Wondering why

Behind the big noise

Restlessly absent minded

An enigma boy

Without a home

Blind for the sake of blind

Love for the sake of lust

Jubilantly unknowing

Walking in the garden

Of soft forgotten dreams.

Gokarna, India

Walking to nowhere

It hit me

That now I would write something real

Feeling sick I sat down.

My friend said to me

I speak of love

But preach fire

That I was a demon of the night.

But all I really recall is

Those soft winter weekends

Outside of life

In rooms of tall ceilings

& long rays of silent December sunlight

Upon our playful naked skin.

Honestly

Its left me all chewed up

& now I guess my friends right

I'm doomed to set crude fires

Blindly

In the night.

Berlin, Germany

I write trouble on the wall

I write trouble on the wall of the building

All Hades & horrific

Buildings that vibrate only in my mind

​

I walk under bridge

Strange figures fumbling in the darkness

Make me quiver

& something about lynching

​

I feel death spasm

In the rumbling current of concrete below

A jigsaw of damnation & terror

Doom stretches out all around me

​

I keep walking

& see the king of ghosts

Towering above me

Dodecahedron eyes

all elastic & fluorescent

​

Everything is sixes

Sevens

& nines

Out here

​

The king of ghosts beckons to me

I enter into him at his base

I whisper to him

"I have been studying telepathy"

&

"I foresee a low I will not come back from"

Nothing else is said

I disappear into him.

Berlin, Germany

Great ideas are not forced

They strike one when one is idle

Strolling through a vacant supermarket

Browsing the vegetable section

Genius is always there upon the fringes

No need to force it

Its the daydreamers whisper always fluttering above your dome

Little fantasy's while you wait for your tea to brew

Brilliance is floating always around you

Smile upon it & it will come

Voice it & it becomes you

Magic is always present

All you have to do is listen

& make it so...

Berlin, Germany