The Smell of Sound

Ive developed a bit of a fetish, dear, The smelling of objects of a ***** kind. "*****", the collective perspective of a selected few Let me address the subject once more Select more carefully the words I spew Breakdown Analyze peripheralize Re design I could always blame the man in the moon Bending our horizons Breaking our straight lines Demanding ability of our mind It was in the earth of a rock that I smelt my first sound perhaps I heard the smell,which ever way round Upside down inside out The more ways I look at it the more life shines light The more light fragments my sight How wonderful, the array of colours Have they always been there I wonder as I gaze into the array into the sweet bliss of the day Day tripping Time rippling Brain dripping Heart flipping Tossing words and metaphors The sweet whores of definition. Define, re-define, move some stuff around in itself a process so delicately designed intricate elements of another's expression exposed on the opposite end Juxtaposed Yet out of love completely unopposed Smell this orange, smell this plant, smell this stone Thank goodness this game is not mine alone, I've passed it on the smell of sound freed from being bound by a single mind We could also just smoke spliff on the side of the road Be exposed Remove the clothes of our built up guilt creative confidence spilt in a display of laughter It was indeed a beautiful disaster So now that you are the master once more the master of your own disaster The birthplace that chaos bore The unbound potential of it all Does the change of wind move your breath Are you moved by the changing breath of wind? I'm inclined to thinking, dear Its rather intrinsic Syncronistic A magic trick I say And I do say,because I'm the boss of the world You're the boss of the world We showed them that day On the side of the road smoking our fat spliff being deliberately exposed It all made sense though, in the end when the nose and heart got involved and the warmth of the shared space of love a cloak for the bitter cold Here in lies a buried treasure from way deep down in the earth Unearthed in a single tear Shedding fear Heart vibrations cohere In conclusion, dear, these are my perspectives Acknowledging openly their equal opposite prospective Let's crunch numbers to square this all off, for interest sakes, of coarse So one and one equals eleven the first Master Number The illuminator, the messenger and the teacher Who could have imagined such an extraordinary creature