The time in Singapore is 4am..the flakes of my recent trip still drift in the pools of thought,as i pull on the various gossamers across my skin to bring me back into line,back under the cosh,back into the regimentation of work the busted horse, the cracked saddle on which society rests it's indifference in knitted coarse cloth. My Robin Hood time warp is wrapped away tax free,no hidden off shore accounts no bean bags full of copper pennies to stem the tide of castrated worms wriggling their sniffing noses..to hey buster wot you doing...????..
Perhaps keeping Singapore time by this apple machine is a form of torture to the soul or perhaps time for thought in my next great escape, from the wild flesh eating society whom gores on failing all those whom have humped through The Dead poets Society..a film once seen will always twitter in my mind as i glance upward and watch the swallows already line up on the telegraph wires crossing rambling farms i pass through in my tiny red van, when the uniform of work gossamers on my back.
Being boxed in society does not take long,the stride of acceptance is short, only tree whisperers unzip to the wild dandelions now at last pushing through the leaf mould with an energy to suck up to the sun talking of sucking...mmmmmnnn....i digress...not intentionally but...ssshhh today is Gods day and i wonder did..he she it go mmmmmmnnnn...so goeth.