Wednesday, 13 April 2011

Delirious. Minds. Transcend. Liquefactive. Social. Dreams.

Dear closet zen

our jukebox spirit guide, with golden companion,

we have ascertained light

and voluptuous creeds from rich men,

but there aren't nearly enough bridges

for where we are heading.

Syntropy moves everything, bathed in vibrant colour melt downs,

rays of saccharine elucidation, warms all fluid motions, screw the idea of unattainable moon!

For we resemble these foundations, warmed like yolk, and each of these thoughts

become a transient colour that retains the fish-like quality of you.

Ceaselessly we walk through seeds

of shifting social membranes,

where speech between dogs with gradients and humans with fades remains until,

we find our flowery Neptune gaze,

esoterically placed

within platonic leaves.

We welcome you, to our infantile progression.

Become submerged within your thought canal with flashes of brilliant garden mothers and

mist arises until delightful birds read literature in fantastic postcard realism

And Love!

Love is no more than symbolised metallic bursts

swathes of airbrushed waterfalls becoming punctual

and drinkable

like adjectives of pure thirst.

We laugh so hard we see in spiral colours.

Everything is instantly charming.



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