Friday, 9 September 2016


( a sponanteous memory release)

Too many beats per minute,
too much mdma,
too many straight white lines,
as we huddled together in some far away space,
in corners of oblivion,
getting high as the sky,
watching time burn,
as the profiteers counted their cash,
straight sunshine came to catch us ,
before we all came down,
some of us kept on spiralling,
kept on flying, free falling in escape.
carrying traces of ecstasy unbound.


  1. Brilliant poem to describe those rave flashbacks....nice one Dave... :-)

  2. nice one again mate.time for some techno