(Inarticulate translations to follow…)
A ginger haired boy (what of him?
a ghost from the past.)
The times on the Thames and those staggering times along the A10.
All those years ago ( time is sure fun )
I have seen those sleeping graves that seem to cry out;
Where are thr immortal ones?
Have they all gone off to the great Voltarian Wilde?
Only their caskets remain; open to interpretation.
Open to the discussions of academics and anaemics.
All those years ago.
The voices cried out in crime. ( the alleged, the accused, the acquitted.) while those in
ivory towers stand. ( No justice , no peace chants rise up above the deafening and shrill sound of silence. ) A mocking tribute.
Yes Blind Baby does have it’s Mothers Eyes .
-I am that grey haired invention-
one left –
A turn of the dial. ( oh do you remember them?)
One turn of the dial for a side psychedelic ride.
(an advertisement for the mysteries of the soul.)
Trusted by millions this savage (dis)grace.
Guided by mood, the moon, and the madness of human folly.
(that giggling insanity.)
The arch-angels folly (played out live for pataphysical enjoyment.)
A side trip – on a once in a lifetime …
(An inconvenient verb hangs in the air just waiting to be plucked.)