The Kiwi Beat Poet Son Poem by Wayne Falconer

He reckons how he's drunk with poems man,
why, how, where I don't understand plan.
But when all is mind blown and done,
he's the Kiwi Beat Poet Bohemian son.

Who recalls birth place street space,
lifelong race memories mystery face.
Wild star jewel dreams that taunt,
past enchanted events who still haunt.

Her midnight eyes mystic seance disguise,
shall surely allow this poet to rise.
Quoting the midnight glowing ghost,
the muse late night calling host.

Who allows you to feel to be real,
to let your hearts thoughts steal.
Rage of words burning the page,
worthy of Byron Dantie upon the stage.

Fashion, passion, music, sound, TV,
shall turn my unconscious minds key.
To create the musics spell to inspire
breathe madly to stroke glowing fire.

Shattered, battered, ritual words unheard,
he fashions gems from the absurd.
Words to obsess, devoted cross signed,
fiery passion to wake dull an blind.

The weight of conscience karma effect,
chartered maps we call ode to regret.
The blossom of flower root of tree,
nature lovers key to you an me.

He's word potent, drunk, paradox poet man,
whose guided by some unknown plan.
But when all is flown drunk an run,
he's the Kiwi Poet Bohemian son.