a toast in the ten bells., brick lane london.

A Toast in the Ten Bells…to the beautiful Bedouin bohemian, bedding down shaking up & shacking up where ever all things allow, for its only a ride, while behind the silent cinema of those eyes is an eternal spring-time blossoming for this sojourn-dancing until the darkness claps like rolling thunder, deep beneath the tracks that the camel train of our lives glides like liquid lightning down and all along every instant moment,.. and so raise a cup for the Bedouin beaux-homme, and drain the red nectar and swig the drink to your own health, may peace be with you, warm heart light feet, pinning all hopes on a luck away fly high draw of the cards or roll of a dice then once the wager is too kind its heading for another no bother its outcome my Bedouin friends that fall like stars from the bars between hours whether its moon-gazing or navel gazing there’s always a story for the spring time that lies hidden behind the silent cinema of those beautifully watching eyes..,

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