A tattoo wounded musical warrior
Demonstrates dance therapy to a lost soul
Whilst a womanly wolf is set free with words
The shaved pierced punk pages through consciousness
As an info-techie shows sentient verse
To a Zen-zapped rainbow Goth with velvet legs
Generous junkies, gypsies and gentiles don’t judge
On the garage beat of broken bus benches
Their depart gets them spiraling down to God
Soaked in Iroquois smoke, mangos and Om tea
They float on Jethro’s flute telling Marrakech
Of religious freedom and painful beauty
The nights wondering through the musical maze
When eclectic souls dare braving the cold haze
Can all but compare to the prearranged days
No comments:
Post a Comment