Broken Compass




expect a

Body to be Healthy with its Brains WASHED out??

I blew them out my nose and sent them up in smoke and then washed them

away candle wax nights…

follow music down windy streets –

Do NOW Think later –

5am Philosophies in Toilet Cubicles,

Feel like a Pharaoh from London boroughs to Miami bongos with a broken compass and lost beads and rain bounces from the floor sparkling a thousand mind and feet routes with no clear trail ways.

Keep the sun light under the door crack to illuminate the room…

I looked up and everything had changed: full rooms emptied to new landscape, asymmetrical without solid ground I went…

Running Running and Running and knowing, Running and STILL in the Eye of Madness…

A Wild Woman Roams, a divine feline proud on the prowl.

And she has headphones in her ears, drum and bass and soul and strings

with no name to anything,

no name, no labels, all out of boxes

bare under

Moon Ripe as a Grapefruit:

Kaleidoscope focus all a bunch of matter of no

thing wild when all is as

simple as an

egg – heart

in pocket and hand and head of Memories of

YOU and ME of YOU and ME of YOU and ME of YOU


in and out of arms –

where the fuck did my feet go? They run all over the place and left me behind! Cunty bastards. Lasso the wind incarnadine,

bring back my feet and thread me from the floor.

At least you always know where you are with the floor, it will never let you down but sometimes it does trick you into believing you are a part of the sky, weightless and competing with the clouds,

until you realize you are on the floor and you need to pick yourself back up –

if only I had my feet

My broken compass tells me of the desert in his eyes and I want to JUMP BACK to THEN so BAD… but something else calls to me, tells me maybe it’s not such a good idea?

He has the desert in his eyes and he is too precious for you,

Wild Woman with Broken Flowers and Mirrors Turned All Violet Grey And Watched Him Sail Away. ..

Disappeared, diffused into the night and that’s when

my feet fleeted…

no time for old times new times blank paper walls are the future,

no wild horses running away with the days, the Mad Dogs Of Love from Hell are here again

and I want to run with them into the desert, only a little voice tries to tell me something…I cannot hear  it

a vague reflection of faces animated, my phones have betrayed me again with their silence,

I tell it to fuck off then,

just like I did my feet

and then wondered where did I go?

Or did they all leave?

Traffic lights, swinging disco balls, books and dogs

All the things that make up the minds of the world…


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