TruthTramp

walking through walls is like

falling through cracks

or dancing on water

a delicate balance of

there’s a thousand colours

under the slate grey

overhang

there’s a thousand colours

suspended

under

the paint chips

crumbling

roof tops

running in rivers

of

trash minced heat entwined humid stick of moldy stench

a mothers nature sprouted green grass

in fertile toxic waste

to compost a new land

swirling in greasy

rainbow puddles

under street lamps

vibe

tapping feet in time

on the pavement of

jazz nights

even plastic shines

glittering jesters

masqueraders

and the maddest of hatters

singing or dreaming

or are they whispering

as the mad marched on

enchanted

we slid in time with the night

took her by the hand

and

danced

with this madness

we made love to her

in public

shimmied or

pranced

then

leaped across chasms

of care nots

or fuck offs

while the band

breathed brass

and beat drums

to the sound of

in the end

..oh you know…

i’m the king of the swingers

ya’ll

the jungle VIP

i come and go

with a

puff of smoke

whenever

i damn well please