Sy's Poems
Monday, 9 April 2018
Sunday, 18 March 2018
presence
I stare at the blank page
open on whatsapp,
and I wait and I wait and I wait
for the word to appear under your name
online
It flickers into existence
like a hologram
a mirage
online
transient letters
imprinted on a surface
only a surface
you surface
online
and for a moment in time
time stops.
and here we are
we are both here
so faraway
so very near
your presence lingers
I disappear
I go back
online
you're no longer there
..... I stare and I stare and I stare
at the blank page before me
and there are
so many things I wish to say. I miss you.
so much, I wish I could make you stay
present
but goodbye is done
and we've already become
cyber ghosts
drifting in and out of unspoken dialogue
haunting....
presence
your presence
I hope it never lessens
for it's all I have of you
love
Tuesday, 5 December 2017
real hidden gems
the laundrette
that old iranian sam owns
the naval officer- come- material cleaner
two bouts of cancer later
he's still standing,
still working the machines
the tumble dryers
sam an outlier
he dreams
of taking care
of his sick mother, his mother
a lover
of London city
dreamer of a home
he can never go back to
but his kids are scattered now
across the world
they possess all sorts of degrees
elevation
they don't come to the shop
any more
***
the soup kitchen
moses visits them all
far and wide
across the city,
to eat a meal, with others
companionship, it's what he seeks
up right moses
with lots of stray papers in his bag
a steely gaze,
a knowing
a hearty laugh
that reverberates across
them all,
all those soulful places
filled with people
in some kind of need
material and emotional
this being human.
***
the church
that self appointed
old pastor jack visits
he takes my hand
he tells me the angels came to him
in his youth
his father died at war
but never did they go hungry
work
his mother worked in a factory
Jerusalem is alive in his mind
he hands me a bag of lavender
and talks about mash and eel pie,
to listen is to be alive
it's to arrive
at a junction.
***
the real secret gems
Saturday, 11 November 2017
spinning with eternity, eternally
sitting on the floor
of the silver hive
the little boy who dreams
with eyes wide
open, to know them
is to know
the secrets of the universe
to know them
is to know
a single molecule
brings form to the cosmos <<<>>>>
(the blinding light streams in)
>>>>///////////////////////—————————
where he goes,
none can follow
sitting on on the floor
of the silver hive
the little boy who dreams
eyes dancing, senses in overdrive
so still, so silent, so faraway
the ground beneath him sways
all around
musical atoms surround
the buzzing of the bees confound
with their hidden language,
beautiful and rich
all of a sudden a switch
occurs, ———————
up he scrambles and proceeds to ramble
he moves arm hand up and down / heaven bound
and starts to spin
with the bees, with the music
he loses it,
he finds it
spinning, hands clasped
he spins fast
so fast, to grasp (to learn/ to unlearn)
the music sounds, the bees buzz
round and round and round
he spins he spins
he grins, in a trance
I watch him dance,
with the wind,
with the music
with the bees
with eternity
eternally
eternal
the little boy who dreams
with eyes wide open
to know them
you can never know them
Kew Gardens, The Hive (inspired by a boy with downs syndrome who dances with eternity)
Monday, 3 July 2017
in the folds
my empire of dirt
it sounded on the radio
a country boy's hurt
after a wander around
a burnt down house
somewhere out east
by the lake, the wild heath
the moody sky
beneath it, I seek
an atoms weight of peace
a crease
unfolds in a field
a swamp, a wild rabbit
crazy horse
comes up again
and red cloud
the bisons
they go quiet
the birds chirp, chirp, chirp,
the wind is so loud
there is no peace
no peace no peace
no peace
but at least
there's life
(somewhere in the folds)
Tuesday, 13 June 2017
shapes in condensation
sweet november
glittering gold
a rain drenched
concrete corridor
footsteps and puddles
condensation
it's a jungle
outside
the bus conservatory
draw a map
find your way
circle another sun
wide open in outer space
wide open in outer space
the universe
reiterates
strands of
that age old message, less is,
more,
do not store
any ill,
cease to berate
fate
(misread)
(misread)
a path like this
a path like this
a path like this
rain is falling
the end is shrouded in mist
the river is fading
an old dream reawakened
to walk until the path is gone
to cross borders
every border
every border that exists
the rain is falling
the rain is falling
pitter patter
pitter patter
the rain is falling
draw a map
in the condensation
find your way
c4, 8d
Saturday, 13 May 2017
layers of life
/sometimes/
all of real life
feels like fiction
tears at the janazah prayers
searing pain, lasting affliction,
a lingering embrace
a lingering embrace
in a holy place
in the house of the Lord
your reward
resides in jannah, with Him
your reward
resides in jannah, with Him
the children's laughter, echoes
in a room full of broken hearts
the end the end the end
the boys in white
will grow up too fast
tears fall,
i stall
in prayer
tongue tied
we're tied, to dunya
until the day we die
and death will come to us all
how long will you stall, sy?
all of real life
feels like fiction
the wisteria
birdsong, the towering pylons
the underpass
the lonesome paths
maybe I should ask
something of you
but what
all of real life
feels like fiction
bob geldof, nick mason
a crowd of strangers
I wear patience
like a cloak
I close my eyes and
I float
towards the light......
but then
clinking glasses and adult laughter
bring me back to a world
not mine
the boys in white will grow up to fast
the reeds blow in gold, the water
reflections waver
all these places, I savour
the freedom
the millstone fell on the rat in 1703
300 years ago, it's hard to believe
the wishing wheel
swallowed up our wishes
and left us bereft
the rest
(who knows if they came true)
all of real life
feels like fiction
that ethereal night
the view from the top of the building
there at a gathering,
was it a cult, was I at fault,
for not arriving
I lost my card
too busy striving
to make it some where
all of real life
feels like fiction
following that old canal
that old canal
talking to the nuns from belarus
talking to stanley francis
about history
in a secret garden
all of real life
feels like fiction
the chandelier at africa house
the mouse
meow caught
/////it got away
it got away
all of real life
feels like fiction
the everyday
the everyday
sitting in the cemetery office at dusk
the doors are locked, and we're at home
sipping on tea and talking about the past
in a house surrounded by death
and what's left what's left what's left
the everyday
sitting in the old english garden
listening to the sound of water hit the surface of the pond
watching the birds, flit through skies of gold
writing down stories in my journal
and what's left, what's left what's left
the everyday
wandering by the canal
pass door ways shrouded in wisteria
through a garden centre
by the old church;eerier
than before, a thousand thin mirrors
belonging to a gas tower
and what's left what's left what's left
the everyday
wandering around the museum
waiting for my shift to be over
staring at stone men
watching women in sari's
and boys in kimono's
and what's left what's left what's left
the everyday
bus journeys that never end
thoughts that trail on forever
a pair of lungs on fire, legs that often tire
a waning will to aim higher
what's left what's left whats left
(perhaps, everything)
alhamdulillah
for the everyday
sitting in the cemetery office at dusk
the doors are locked, and we're at home
sipping on tea and talking about the past
in a house surrounded by death
and what's left what's left what's left
the everyday
sitting in the old english garden
listening to the sound of water hit the surface of the pond
watching the birds, flit through skies of gold
writing down stories in my journal
and what's left, what's left what's left
the everyday
wandering by the canal
pass door ways shrouded in wisteria
through a garden centre
by the old church;eerier
than before, a thousand thin mirrors
belonging to a gas tower
and what's left what's left what's left
the everyday
wandering around the museum
waiting for my shift to be over
staring at stone men
watching women in sari's
and boys in kimono's
and what's left what's left what's left
the everyday
bus journeys that never end
thoughts that trail on forever
a pair of lungs on fire, legs that often tire
a waning will to aim higher
what's left what's left whats left
(perhaps, everything)
alhamdulillah
for the everyday
Tuesday, 25 April 2017
(recalling memories on the) 48 bus
48 bus
there's never enough
timeeeeeee
two d a y s,
nothing makes
sense anymore
things seem meaningless,
I wander what it's all for
---------------------twilight
gazing out the 48 bus
window
in faraway walthamstow
listening to heart
wishing I could start
over anew
someplace else////
gosh, how tiresome,
these thoughts on loop
take a step back, try to regroup
she said you seem depressed
i shrug, think it's just the meds
I'll be fine when I'm better
just trying, to keep moving,
I keep losing
track, of where I am
but right now I'm here
and I miss you
a kiss on her forehead
when did you get so big
beautiful girl
stay free, stay free stay free
i know your mum just wants me
to settle down, and to grow up
I don't want to, but some days I feel so stuck
the bus goes past clapton pond
strangers take their seats
I watch others delete
thoughts, passing reveries
so many memories
the bus goes by
my old offices,
the church yard where I would sit
the walls of the old chapel
I painted them in white
how strange and fragmented,
this one precious life
this living
this living london
come undone
the streets I would often roam
the bus goes by
the city, the city, the city
monument
until it reaches it's last stop
the real journey begins
Friday, 31 March 2017
noticing things
the way the evening light
hits the cherry blossoms
the way the clouds shift
making shapes, broken and solemn
the way the wind passes through
the way the tropical palms sway
every time that you
drift by and opt to stay
rooted, muted, in a secluded
patch of green
the way the ancient crows seem
to know everything
they make their homes in pines
out of small lines
of straw
straw, that's what it's for
to make a home
*
the way the evening light
hits the weather vane on the asylum
the way that you wear silence
as a cloak, concealing
it pointed east
the crow took flight, fleeing
in that very direction
(a home to come back too)
*
the way the gates were opened
the gates to the secret garden
the way that life unfolds
the way the universe holds
onto you------ and keeps you upright
in restless times, when nothing is right
see, when you spend so much time alone
you notice the crow in his home
you notice each undertone
wandering and wondering
seeking refuge
in a secret refuge
(a thousand of them)
you notice things
the way things are
for just a moment in time
and everything is as it should be
everything is everything
Alhamdulillah
Thursday, 30 March 2017
slow down, don't stop
a thousand moments
maybe more
a frail old man
eyes fixed on the floor
he carries a mammoth book
he moves slowly
ever so slowly
(from a bus window)
at twilight
a blind man bumps into
a sign outside a newsagents
a hovering stick before him
he moves slowly
ever so slowly
someplace else
a lady using crutches
she struggles as she clutches
onto her everything
she moves so slowly
ever so slowly
///heart breaks, at seeing souls make
slow movements
but to move still
but the bravery
but the life
but the bravery and the life
but the life
on the other side
the boys and girls from chelsea
sip martini's outside bars
dressed in tuxes and gowns
on roadsides with fancy cars
the other side
a small private school boy
exclaims the lipstick pen is epic
unceasing laughter
it's epic, shit it's so epic
that lipstick pen
but also your boyhood
spirit (keep it safe forever kid)
the kimono
the strangers
the runners that run by
the river that flows
the lost foreigners that wander
drifting, sub alive
--- unable to identify
with the townscape
and the people that make
it so
so so so so
no tarrying, for some, just travelling
though
just looking to
the sky
and at the people
gosh the people
wondrous and unearthly
wondrous and unearthly
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
Wednesday, 29 March 2017
V&A reveries III
hiding in silver
waiting in gold
searching in tapestries
for wisdom, I sold
nothing, but a map
a map a map a map
I told you not to go
off track off track off track
it's not safe, but wait
forget it, just keep going
go any way you like
I'll keep wandering by the casts
under curly delicate glass
far from home in asia
far from home in the far east
far from home in renaissance
hmm hmmm hmmm but at least
we're in the same dimension
on the great bed of ware
if i fell asleep would I wake
elsewhere
i wonder
i wonder
life at the museum
it's all people watching and botching
up words.... too lost in thought
I can't remember a single thing
you said stranger,
oh...?
oh...?
oh japan is that way
oh kipling is there
asia is behind you
you're really quite near
////can I dream again?
Monday, 27 March 2017
sad girl
sad girl
why are you so sad
you never said goodbye
she know's you well enough
to understand
and if she doesn't that's ok
soon she'll forget,
sad girl, you regret
everything
why not live well
so you have less to regret
to forget
nothing is set
in stone
not even your heart
(though you may think it)
sad girl
why are you so sad
you keep shutting everyone out
to keep from getting hurt
you end up getting hurt still
sad girl, I wonder what it will
take for you to learn
sad girl
don't worry the feeling will pass
don't worry sad girl
you'll get better soon
and when you can breathe again
nothing will seem so bad
gosh, sad girl
why are you so sad
everything is ok
it will be just fine
though you may not believe it
there's a fine old line
between sorrow and gold
try to unfold
///// those old mind maps
timelapse
the future is bright *believe it*
try to unfold
///// those old mind maps
timelapse
the future is bright *believe it*
Thursday, 23 March 2017
shalimar gardens, in battersea
it felt like shalimar gardens
at twilight
it always did
the birds never hid
away in trees
they flew in the pink sky
only they were black kites
maybe eagles
not pigeons and seagulls
and the water had all dried out
and the people had all gone home
and it was always better then
once the people had gone
and the world was quiet
and still and anew
it felt like shalimar gardens
what else was there do
but to tarry for a while longer
just a little while longer
what else was there do
but to tarry for a while longer
just a little while longer
weeping willow and a blackbird at sunset
restless skies
blustery winds
weeping willow
weeps louder
his entire body is shaking
swaying, wildly flailing
tears are everywhere
blackbird tries to console him
he perchs onto his shoulder
and whispers into his ear
for a moment weeping willow
stops flailing and wailing
he is still, he can hear
///mysteries, everlast///
Wednesday, 22 March 2017
twilight reflections in a secret garden
everything changes
maybe for a while
maybe forever
who's to say,
one day you go through a turnstile
the next you're on the other side thinking hey
where am I how did i get here
you're there then
you're there
a wander after work
wonder why you always dare
to take the road less travelled
perhaps you like the way it feels
earth and gravel
beneath your feet
pass the royal marsendon hospital
the sky is pink
trees are shrouded in cherry blossom
a heaviness begins to sink
everything is dark
the birds begin to sing
but so beautiful too
a wander over albert bridge
the gold lights go on
the sirens are getting louder
fear pulses through the city
but above is only colour
only calm,
the river is pink
a wander, ---disarm
helicopters overhead
headlights and an uneasy traffic
twilight reflections
I find that secret heavy door
that leads to the secret garden
there is no one
just me beneath the noisy darkening sky
the sound of the water fountain
so melodic and sweet
just a dozen worn empty benches
just some more trees
vague gnarly ancient ones
hello trees, it's me again
it's sy, i wonder why
everything is always so weird
and strange
so out of reach
so out of range
Tuesday, 21 March 2017
i saw a rainbow today
when life gets you down
get the bus
it's cheaper
you lost your wallet
always were a believer
of what's meant to be
will be, look out the bus window
you'll see - life goes on
shit sy, life goes on
and on and on and on
until it doesn't anymore
no sooner will you realise
what it was all for
you'll realise
that there was less to realise
than you always thought
when life gets you down
when you've been ill for so long
in your broke kingdom, where you belong
when you been so ill
so still, so unable to instill
a sense of peace within
and wonder
go for a wander
(even if it's in your mind)
so many roads go on forever
and you might just find
there's a rainbow down that way
it's okay to stray
off the beaten path
it's okay to stray
off the beaten path
*this isn't everything*
when life gets you down
let the purple petals rain down on you
look to the gold light, feel it burn holes into
places that know only darkness
that brown girl with the purple hat
so small, she was facing you on that
bus, looking at you the whole time
as if trying to communicate something
when life gets you down
go up to the secret film room
and hide for a bit, get lost in the moving stills
when life gets you down
follow mister robot in the museum
he was there, he was, he was
make everyone laugh
even if it renders you half
a person, it won't worsen
cos your windpipes already broke
for even in telling a joke
there is relief -----------
shit sy, when life get's you down
when you think of everything
and everyone you've ever lost
every decision that cost
you your peace and joy
look out of that bus window
the river is still flowing
it's flowing
you are not a river
you are a person
and you can see the rainbow
and you can truly grow
through it all
///time lost//// senses gained///
Monday, 13 March 2017
pollution
pollution
the air is black and grey
the solution
is to float far far away
into the cosmos
there's no air up there
up above
there's only stardust
that's more than enough
sustenance
down on earth
I am perfecting the art
the air is black and grey
the solution
is to float far far away
into the cosmos
there's no air up there
up above
there's only stardust
that's more than enough
sustenance
down on earth
I am perfecting the art
of falling apart
the atmosphere is killing
gravity- let me go
I'd like to depart
I'd like to float
upwards ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
the art
of wearing your earthly
heart
heart
on your material sleeve
where does that leave
you?
bereft -------
time and time and time
again
when oh when oh when
will you learn
child of the stars
to breathe in gold
and not hold
within clouds of black dust
bits of poisoned earthly crust
here on the cusp
////// of a cosmic life
let go
the art
time and time and time
again
when oh when oh when
will you learn
child of the stars
to breathe in gold
and not hold
within clouds of black dust
bits of poisoned earthly crust
here on the cusp
////// of a cosmic life
let go
the art
of wavering
of endangering
a hard-fought peace
this cough won't go away
it won't cease
it won't cease
pollution
london air is black and grey
to breathe it in
it will make your insides fray
your lungs will no doubt
fall apart
the night forest in translucent
the sky is doing something
///words relayed, responses delayed
the storyteller and the wanderer
we clamber over gates
start down a baron path way
a metallic river
the trees are growing all around
i struggle to make a sound
to speak to breathe
to speak to breathe
ribs rattle and bones squeak
mouths stays quiet
modern soul
pollution
the air is black and grey
the solution
is to float far far away
into the cosmos
and on and on and on and on and on
(yo im dying out here)
Sunday, 5 March 2017
lost not found
sunlight, a crack in the window
a beam of gold in a grey room
it spreads across the ceiling
i watch it shift
all the while reeling
from thoughts of yesteryear
yesteryear
the daffodils were in bloom
spring was drawing near
back then
you and I would share
everything
but maybe nothing too
shit man, I miss talking to you.
I miss wandering wherever
I miss never
wanting to be anywhere else
i miss having a best friend
someone to talk too
most days I feel so alone
but that feeling is nothing new
I wish we were able to see through
bullshit and pretense
past and future tense
wish you could just be you
and I could just be me
and we could meet somewhere in the middle
i spent a lifetime building walls,
what remains, nought but empty halls
derelict spaces, disused and wasted
echoes reverberate
and nothing even matters
lost not found
-----to be unbound
by time and space
by hurt and haste
to find grace
in unlikely places
to remember things right
to forever delight
in memories luminous in nature////
>>>>>>lost not found
Wednesday, 22 February 2017
night on repeat
that we are
that we were
that we are to know
the sky opened up above
revelaving streaks of grey indigo
dotted with stars
some fading and broken
some disused
loathsome
hiding in the folds
waiting for the light to go out
I wandered alone
by the river that night
looking upwards
then the earth shook ///////////::::::::::
then the earth shook ///////////::::::::::
and I coughed
and coughed and coughed
and coughed and coughed
and coughed and coughed
and coughed and coughed
until my ribs shattered
inside my battered
heart, became exposed
but I suppose
it was only a matter of time
there by the river
by the japanese pagoda
the gold buddha watching me intently
as I clutched onto my insides
exposed in the darkness
though in the shadows it's easy to hide
like those stars in the folds
shrouded by the forever universe
Wednesday, 8 February 2017
writing on the wall
leake street
delirious concrete
colours on the wall
shapes that enthrall
and
the smell of piss and weed
and
a single message to heed
'if you're looking for a sign
this is it'
woolwich life
tranquil vale
defiance avenue
zenith fried chicken
woolwich life
the blue flashing lights
the sirens
the road that lead into the river
the twilight sky
an elongated shadow
was it mine
it must have been
the atrium
the broken warehouses
tranquil vale
defiance avenue
zenith friend chicken
woolwich life
park bench
the moody twilight sky
streaks of grey and swirls
of wonder
venus
the crescent moon reflected
in a puddle
cold air,
everythings a muddle
vague shadows,
weeds and rubble
absent thoughts
I settle, on that bench
watching, breathing
waiting
believing
that by leaving
footprints in mud
a trail would be left behind
thud///
rewind time
where did the years go?
thud///
rewind time
where did the years go?
shit, where did the years go?
transitions
ten thousand wanders later
a victorian pumping station
a conservatory in a palace
the paper city from a high place
crouch end
the bend
of the railway tracks
the secret door
exploring hacks
a packed lunch
a weird hunch
that it's better to go forth
up to the white house on a grey
hill, passed an allotment
wandering still
how many hours have passed
when did night turn to day
still finding
new places to lay
to rest old stories
past failures and faded glories
with each mile traversed
a thought unversed
surfaces, i held your tiny buddha baby
to rest old stories
past failures and faded glories
with each mile traversed
a thought unversed
surfaces, i held your tiny buddha baby
he cried
i looked at your daughter
she cried
but those dancing eyes
they defied
the sadness she was taught
and that old coversation
that left us both weighty with guilt
wish I could explain
why I'm never around
why I never show up
wish I could make you feel
less alone
wish I knew what to say
to make you feel like you're home
when we're together
but there are no words
life inside the square
everything is alive
the pigeons in the sky
they flit over the water
over the stone lions
some gather around me
waiting for crumbs
for crumbs
she hums, she waves
he sweeps,
he sweeps,
I gaze
into space
I watch them
I watch the people pass by
an old lady takes a seat beside me
an young man gets up to leave
the busker
sings a sad drawn-out song
and then another, so she prolongs
and then another, so she prolongs
a silent conversation
with herself, and everyone she had ever known
there alone, with pigeons in the sky
with herself, and everyone she had ever known
there alone, with pigeons in the sky
with the stone lions
everything is alive
where do we derive
our inspiration
if not through watching
simply watching the world
observing encounters
they gradually unfurl
and give way to clarity,
a thousand lives play out,
inside a cloud of profanity
kind words, and vanity
the world is a theatre,
////sweet banality
a thousand lives play out,
inside a cloud of profanity
kind words, and vanity
the world is a theatre,
////sweet banality
there is beauty, difference, there is life
after watching a blip of it
after watching a blip of it
I went to watch paterson
watch the world
through the windows of his bus
in that empty theatre
I watched him watch life
the small details
to find peace and beauty in them,
every day is filled with beautiful surprises
I watched him watch life
the small details
to find peace and beauty in them,
every day is filled with beautiful surprises
fiction satirizes
fact, and everything is alive
the pigeons in the sky
the poems we write
the things we see
places, people, and objects,
the things that render us free
the imagination, faith, hope
a thousand ways of seeing
everything is alive
imagining freedom
floating up and down
at night in the museum
and then it plays
if you want to view
paradise, simply look around
and view it
and a smile crossed my face
and a feeling entered my heart
a feeling of pure joy
so powerful it could destroy
every molecule of ill
everlast everstill
in awe of life, and living
the beauty of imagining
everything
for in dreams
we are forever free
for in dreams
we can forever be
wherever and whoever
we desire
so live in dreams
where you will never tire
of the sublime too ordinary
things that make up existence
/////life is for the living///////////
living london in scattered places
there i was
sitting in australia,
what a failure
south west thirteen
in the company of a black swan
my mind was kind of hurting
from thinking about all of life
and nothing in particular
exit five thousand
try not to be particular
a wander by the thames
ten thousand memories
half grey, (a hundred more steps)
the rest
is history (the ancient kind)
so I settled in the walled garden
an orchard filled with apple trees
and tall tall sunflowers
and I sighed, an easy sigh
cos despite it all
life is the shit
it's beautiful
there's so much of it
beauty in the small details
the sunlight on an orchid
the crimson of his beak
the silence, the solitude, the freedom
what more does one need?
here be everything
your card has been declined
scars all over your face
red gashes and cuts
you were a costume maker
you said you couldn't remember
the name of the man you fell in love with
so you just wrote gorgeous man
how we live
sugar house,
cottonmouth
limehouse cut /
the slaughter
a barcodeless bottle
of stolen water
and the future is just like now
but in a little while
so surrender
and just smile,
at that stupid giant thing
on the wall
the barnacle geese
are landing on the water
and the house boats
and the anecdotes
and the lessons learnt
the shits that burnt
a little bit of our insides
and
the red squiggle
the lidl pastries
the path, the past, the daydreams
the trampoline
us in the air
up in the air
not a doubt, not a care
just the moon, and following lights
the neon, the scribbles
the fading nowhere nights
ethereal delights
small details
living london
is that what this is
our friendship is forever
and this is how we live
cottonmouth
limehouse cut /
the slaughter
a barcodeless bottle
of stolen water
and the future is just like now
but in a little while
so surrender
and just smile,
at that stupid giant thing
on the wall
the barnacle geese
are landing on the water
and the house boats
and the anecdotes
and the lessons learnt
the shits that burnt
a little bit of our insides
and
the red squiggle
the lidl pastries
the path, the past, the daydreams
the trampoline
us in the air
up in the air
not a doubt, not a care
just the moon, and following lights
the neon, the scribbles
the fading nowhere nights
ethereal delights
small details
living london
is that what this is
our friendship is forever
and this is how we live
wild horses
wild horses
running through the green
one after the other
so free so free so free
the wild horses inside of me
are running still
the ocean
it will fill
every gash and gap
every undefined avenue
on the map,
that is you
the heavens cut in half
everything is new
the lights spreads, and reflects
and seeps in
the ravens ride the wild wilds winds
over the hills, these ancient hills
for a moment, everything is still
wild horses
they are running
running
they are running away
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