Balconies Are Great

How happiness is woven into balconies

Outside the silent empty house each day

And strikes the old hate to empty in a bin

Maybe a book growling on the shelf

The time when we sense the furniture kept

And how it is not sudden but still persistent

These are where orgies come out evident.

An open window that looks out into the streets

As I stand there my lifespan completes there itself in a dream

You are so happy that you conceal the onslaught

Repeatedly taking in the demonstration of thoughts

And all you have is a balcony to talk about

You are so poor that you can longer return

The warmth from the morning sun.

As long as you live you want to grieve

Hidden is the suffering and happiness in your universe

And here work be best done of faith that has returned.

Like a growth of a tree with roots deepened.

For what is happiness is always right 

No other thoughts stir throughout the night.

Triggering symptoms of the space provided 

From above I can see people walking

As if I were looking at the sheep that fly over the fence

Busy in a simple adventure keeping the distance 

Beneath are what could live and wanted to and tried

It hurts to look down and observe those in lines.

The moon grinning in a round number without a name

I laughed because I wanted to honour the day.

Every job has its day and a country to talk about

The inside bird and outside bird in a fight of transparency 

You will find werewolf’s and angry Poseidon 

And as long as excitement remains

You will find things like that in balconies

Hoping that the road to another house is a long one

You will encounter spirits that set the soul free

May there be as many nights as possible

With what joy? What pleasure? What harbours?

Are you sure that there are people below and nearby

 The magnificent being the car, lorry and bike on standby.

But don't hurry the journey at all as it lasts

It steps right into our lives over and about

As I hear the spit and crackle of heartbeats

What it is to whisper and deliver love in the streets

The practice from the balcony that is unveiled

The inheritance is passed down as a gift.

Allowing awe to practice as stars will usher

This is where we gods shall meet and cease

That activates space particles and the event horizon

A deep grasp of will to become the whirling wind

That makes us leap to find the song

Fill our bellies with infinite calculations and thorns.

Extracting the elixir of life that makes you shift

Billions of blue blistering barnacles drift.

I choose to leave the house and remain on the balcony

Don’t waste your breath explaining your mother of this motive

Why daily you are happy and patiently drinking your milk

Stand by the balcony and let you rage those six yards of silk

When the charge for attempted murder is domestic

Imagine a thought cloud in your head trying out the gimmick.

Remember to write about balconies and unburden

With a pillow, water bottle and a packet of chips.

Sigh no more of the dull and heavy

Converting all horns of vehicles heard into an identity

Know that you are celebrating success 

This is my city and this is my home

Balconies are where poets are born

This is my city. This is my home.