Syd Barrett,

orchestral diamond cutter

finger painting the Union Jack

he died twice, once in the spotlight

twice as a Cambridge time-gardener.

 

The clown prince of the London underground

wrote tales of gnomes in the acid-drenched forest.

The peculiar leaf that tried to steal the tree

Lucifer Sam selling astronomy.

 

Emily drinks from a garden hose

spies that old jack rabbit legend in waistcoat 

from the corner of her sunlit eye

down the dark hole of an English meadow he goes

chemical animal in top hat and monocle

original, virginal sifting through sands,

Emily tries, but misunderstands.

 

Lighters flicker in the smoky sound

airplanes dive in the dance club

sinister songs from strings and fair fingers

a careening, melodic madness unfurls

swirling in colors, swallowing girls.

 

And through the rising smoke we see

the pale outlines of 4 pink musicians

bringing on the 13th Technicolor Dream

the flip side of the Sgt. Pepper kaleidoscope.

 

But while the piper performs, his spirit 

crawls to the corner of the Universe

to wait out eternity, like a silent record

that never stops spinning.

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The last exhibit in the Museum Of Sound

is a room of stripes swallowed in time.

Don’t blink, or you’ll miss the Mellotron maiden

~ escape the liquid mirror ~

pursued by a black and green scarecrow

| S | P | I | T | T | I | N | G |  | T | O | O | T | H | P | I | C | K | S |.

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From The Opulence Of Invention. Copyright © 2018 E. P. Mattson, All Rights Reserved.