Listening to Hints heard within wax streaks
of hot purple the auto queued detritus
Of retuned poets that once scribbled
beneath the Tartan Stitched sheets.
Whilst gulls fly above the Dead
and restless a bag of floating soda
As it hinders the search partys
with a tirade About converting
coal to steam.
as they Butter the dictionary
Press and drop it to the same old
they once hot trotted to under Salisbury sky’s.
As we Wear face paint like their fears
to dance around the changing rules of courting
lovers In leaden shoes amongst churning waves
drinking with elephants and playing
Them at their own milk felled games.
to stay awake whilst charting the flys that
are ready to run the course.
As the metallic struts now enter sight
Like scenes pulled from a magic hat
as Still drams of pity sake are washed down within
the Oriental parlour with topless tokkuri.
With not so distant podium rings
A ping back being readied and Unlocked
for torch keys.